Fox and Hound
by Quycksylver
Summary: Are sorceresses always evil? Is SeeD everything we've been led to believe? Chapter 8 Up...Seifer ponders over the past...Zell ponders his squad's chances for success...and Irvine is confronted with ANOTHER unpleasant surprise...Please R/R
1. Chapter One

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A/N: This fic originally started out as a sort of screwball comedy entitled "Partners." However, for whatever reason, it kept wanting to get angsty on me, so I started rewriting it. This version is much darker. Before I get burned by incoming flames, be aware that I take a few liberties with the game--particularly the whole sorceress issue. So, if you're a purist, go read something else! This story features Irvine, but also will include most of the other characters as well. Like I said, this is going to be a darkfic--there may be character deaths in the future. I'm just not sure whose yet.

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Fox and Hound

Chapter 1

Siobhan read the letter over one final time.

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Cowboy,

By the time you wake up and read this, I'll be long gone. As corny as it sounds, the past four years have been everything I'd have ever dreamed of--if I'd ever allowed myself to have a dream like that. You know my past--some of it anyway--and why dreams have always been in short supply for me.

But all dreams eventually end in waking, and this one is no exception. It's not just that we had our first serious fight yesterday--it took us four years, but we finally managed it. It's almost funny when you think about it. OK. Maybe not. Anyway, I finally had it hammered into my thick skull that we're just too different. We see the world in two completely different ways--both perfectly reasonable given who and what we are--but too divergent to ever be reconciled. You made a decision yesterday that I can't live with, and the only choice I can make is to leave. I don't blame you for the choice you made--in your place, I would probably do the same.

I'm sorry for the pain I'll be causing you, but if it makes it any easier for you, I've lied to you from the very beginning. Lies of omission only, but lies, nevertheless. There's so much I've wanted to tell you, but never dared. I can't even tell you here in this damn letter--I'm too much the coward. You'll find out eventually, anyway.

On to more practical matters…In the other envelope, you'll find the deed to the house and the bankbook for our business account--both now made over entirely into your name. I won't be needing the house anymore--and as for the money--spend it on booze, gamble it away, or throw it away on cheap hookers--whatever…Seriously, there should be enough there to keep you in style for quite some time. Enough so that you, hopefully, never have to sell your soul to that ice-bastard Leonhart ever again. Sorry if I sound bitter--I guess I am. That son of a bitch has cost me a lot--everything, in fact.

There's so much left to say--but absolutely no time to say it. So I'll close by saying that these past four years have been the happiest of my life. But, things being the way they are, the greatest kindness I can do for you is to disappear from your life. Take care of yourself, Cowboy. I'll miss you. 

Forgive me. Forget me.

Vonnie

She looked at her handiwork, unsatisfied.

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Hyne…what a fucked-up way to say goodbye--he deserves better than to be tossed away like an empty pop-bottle. He deserves a goddamned explanation.

But she wasn't going to be the one to give it to him. She wasn't kidding about being a coward. Let someone else be the one to deliver the good news.

Siobhan folded the letter and slipped it into an envelope marked _Irvine_. Rising from her writing desk, she took the letter and the larger envelope containing the deed and bankbook and crossed the short distance to the bedroom.

The light from the hallway illuminated the bedroom well enough for her to make her way to the nightstand next to the bed. Siobhan propped the two envelopes up on the brim of the black Stetson that rested on the small wicker table. He'd be sure to see them there. Although she tried to avoid looking at the figure sleeping so peacefully in her bed, she ended up looking anyway.

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Hyne, he's so…beautiful.

The lanky Galbadian lay in a graceful sprawl upon the bed, a small smile curving his full lips. His auburn mane spilled over his shoulders and onto the pillow. The elflocks that framed his face had fallen into his eyes, and Siobhan gently smoothed the wayward tendrils out of his face. In his sleep, Irvine had managed to kick the covers off of himself. Despite the delicious tableau her lover's nude body presented, Siobhan drew the blankets back up over his shoulders, tucking them in around him. Trabian nights were cold, after all.

Gazing at the sleeping man, Siobhan contemplated the events that had wrecked everything just that afternoon.

"You told that bastard you'd do it, didn't you?"

Irvine stood before her looking both guilty and defiant. "Yeah, darlin, I did."

Siobhan closed her eyes and clenched her jaw--trying to stifle the sudden tidal wave of rage that made her want to lash out at the man standing before her. Finally, she let her breath hiss out between clenched teeth. "Fuck," she said emphatically, "You know what I think about this!" She turned away, shaking her head in disbelief.

Irvine reached out and gently gripped her shoulders, turning her back around to face him. "I'm sorry, Vonnie, I know how you feel--"

Siobhan batted the sniper's hands away angrily. "You don't know the first _fucking_ thing about how I feel!" she cried, her voice harsh with anger. "If you _did_, you'd have told Leonhart to take his offer, roll it up, and go fuck himself with it!"

Irvine--stubborn as always--shook his head. "I've got to do this--"

"Like hell you do! You're not a SeeD anymore--you don't have to do their dirty work for them!" She met her lover's pain-filled amethyst gaze. "You don't have to let them use you as a fucking weapon!"

Irvine caught her face between his strong hands, locking eyes with her. "I _am_ a fucking weapon," he said bitterly. "It's what I do--remember?" The sniper gave a short bark of humorless laughter and suddenly released Siobhan. Turning around, he strode to the window and stared through the glass, gazing at the distant mountains without really seeing them.

"It's been fun playin bounty hunter--not to mention playin house--with you," he said, still staring through the window. "But tracking down a few geezards and catcherpillars ain't exactly what I was trained for."

Siobhan quirked up an eyebrow in disbelief. "You're doing this because your skills aren't being utilized to the fullest?" She would have laughed over the sheer stupidity of the argument if everything she held dear hadn't been riding on her lover's reply.

"No," Irvine finally turned to face her. "I'm doing it because I was trained as a SeeD. And SeeDs were created for one purpose."

So there it was. Nurture had won out over Nature. Irvine was not a cold-blooded murderer, but because he'd been raised by a bunch of sick, sadistic bastards who _were_, he was willing to once again let himself be used by the very people who had damn near destroyed him.

"Bullshit," Siobhan had retorted, unsure herself whether she was describing Irvine's explanation or the circumstances in general. Unable to listen to any more of the crap her lover was spouting, Siobhan turned abruptly and stalked out of the house, slamming the door viciously behind her. She heard Irvine call her name once, a hint of pleading in his rough baritone voice. Not in the mood to listen anymore, Siobhan resisted the urge to turn back and trudged out of the yard, taking a well-worn path through the little woods surrounding the house. About halfway up the incline to her favorite spot, she heard the thundering of Exeter--Irvine taking his anger and frustration out on the local fauna. Siobhan idly wondered whose face he was projecting onto his targets--hers, Leonhart's…or his own. 

She'd been sitting for a couple of hours, her back against a tree, arms wrapped around her legs, chin resting on knees, gazing out at the mountains she loved. It suddenly dawned on her that she hadn't heard Exeter's thunderous report for quite some time. Following almost instantaneously on the realization, she became aware of the sound of approaching footsteps. When she didn't turn to face the intruder, the footsteps hesitated for a moment, then continued their approach.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the skirts of a long sheepskin coat, a capricious spring wind causing them to flutter around a pair of long, denim-clad legs. A gauntleted hand held a shotgun in a loose-fingered grip. Siobhan didn't acknowledge her lover's presence, but continued staring fixedly out at the scenery.

After a few minutes, Irvine heaved a weary sigh and dropped his shotgun gently onto the grass. The whisper of material preceded a warm softness dropping onto her shoulders. The scent of gunpowder, tobacco, and musky cologne enveloped her.

"I know it's spring, but this _is_ Trabia," he said. "Hyne's sake, the ground's still frozen--you'll catch your death."

"Drake's keeping me warm," she'd replied after a few moments, shrugging Irvine's coat from her shoulders and onto the ground.

Another heavy sigh issued from the marksman as he sank gracelessly to the ground beside her. Reaching out, he snagged his coat and drew it back to him. A few moments later, Siobhan heard the snaps, clicks, and rattles of Exeter being broken down for cleaning. When she believed him to be preoccupied with his task, Siobhan risked a glance at the silent man beside her. His hands moved automatically about their work, seemingly of their own volition. Raising her gaze, Siobhan found her lover's violet eyes regarding her gravely. His face reflected her own misery. She turned away again to stare blankly at the mountains. Gun-callused fingers gripped her chin and turned her face back to meet his gaze.

"I don't like bein on the outs with you, darlin," Irvine said hoarsely.

"Then don't--" Whatever else Siobhan would have said was cut off when her lover's lips trapped her own in a fierce kiss. Sliding her hands between their bodies, Siobhan attempted to push him away, but the sharpshooter wrapped his arms tightly around her, his fingers digging into the flesh of her back. Stiffening her body and keeping her lips clamped shut, Siobhan resisted Irvine's attempt at reconciliation. Groaning with frustration, the marksman's hands swept furiously over her body, sliding under her tunic, caressing her waist and back, gently cupping her breasts, swirling his thumbs over the stiffening nubs of flesh at their apex.

Despite her intention to freeze him out, Siobhan arched into her lover's touch. A gauntleted hand left off teasing her breast and curled gently around the back of her neck. Her lips parted, allowing the warm slickness of his tongue to slip into her mouth, probing and tasting. Siobhan's hands slipped up over Irvine's shoulders and neck before plunging into his hair, her long fingers clutching and tangling before wrapping themselves around the back of his skull.

When their lips finally parted, Irvine held Siobhan tightly against him, his cheek pressed against hers, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Thus they sat for a time, each wordlessly extending and receiving forgiveness. At last, Irvine stirred beside her. Climbing to his feet, he extended a hand to assist her.

"Let's go home," he said simply.

Siobhan took the proffered hand and let him pull her to her feet.

"I'm surprised you didn't want to do me right here," she said wryly.

Chuckling, Irvine tilted his hat back. "I did," he confessed, violet eyes glittering with amusement. "But, unlike you, I'm not junctioned against the cold." His lips stretched into a broad grin, "and the idea of bein out here, bare-assed after sundown just didn't appeal to me."

Siobhan's lips quirked into a crooked smile. "Wimp," she chided, pulling the Stetson over her lover's face and pushing him backwards. She'd only taken a few steps back toward the house when the pounding of running footsteps signaled the marksman's approach. Before she could turn, she was suddenly blinded as Irvine dropped his coat over her head. Strong arms encircled her waist, lifted her off her feet, and swung her around. Laughing, Siobhan struggled to free her arms, which were trapped by the coat and Irvine's embrace. After a moment, she gave up, and resting her head on his shoulder, allowed herself to be swung. 

After a few giddy circuits, Irvine set Siobhan lightly on her feet. He slipped his coat off her head and onto her shoulders, adjusting the front like a parent dressing a child to play in the snow. The waning sunlight reflected in eyes that glowed with equal parts of laughter and desire.

"Let's go home," he said again, slipping an arm around her shoulders. Together, they took the path back down the hillside.

They'd ended up skipping dinner, deciding instead to feast on each other. Their lovemaking had been gentle and sweet. Siobhan understood that Irvine's caresses were intended as a further apology for his part in their conflict--and she had accepted them as such. Her own caresses and whispered endearments extended both acceptance and apology…as well as a goodbye. Before Irvine had met her atop the hill overlooking their property, Siobhan had already made the decision to leave that very night. She had already sent Mistral out to gather the others, a capsule containing a coded message hidden in the thick ruff of fur around his neck. The fact that she had forgiven her lover changed nothing. There were other asses on the line besides her own. 

The knowledge that departure was necessary, however, did little to console Siobhan. It wasn't fair. She'd lived with this man for four years. Lived with him, laughed with him, worked and wept with him. She'd fought beside him, for him, and with him. She'd loved him and been loved by him…and now, she had to leave him. As she gazed down at Irvine's sleeping form, her earlier rage threatened to reassert itself. How could he allow himself to be used again? How could he show such total disregard for her feelings?

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How could he betray me like this?

HE DOESN'T KNOW, BELOVED. Drake's voice rumbled in her mind. _WAKE HIM AND TELL HIM. IT'S NOT TOO LATE._

Siobhan shook her head and held onto her rising anger. If she were angry, leaving would be easier.

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LET USSS HAVE HIM, another voice hissed in her mind. _HE ISSS THE ENEMY NOW--USSSSE USSS…TAKE VENGEANSSSE FOR HISSS BETRAYAL!_

As she gazed down at her sleeping lover, Siobhan was suddenly assaulted by visions of Irvine's body lying torn and bleeding before her, his violet eyes dull and glazed over with death. An impossible amount of blood pooled on the sheets, dripping onto the floor. The coppery taste of blood coated her lips and tongue.

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Yes!

Siobhan felt her control starting to slip as another force tried to seize control.

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No! Drake, help me! Don't let her take over!

Siobhan shuddered with the effort of keeping control away from the dangerous other that shared her mind. She felt Drake's comforting presence add his strength to hers, vanquishing the hostility and blood lust of the Other.

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FOR NOW…the voice hissed…_BUT I'LL BE BACK._

Tisiphone…oh gods…that's ALL I need!

A cold, wet nose shoved itself into her hand, and a long, enthusiastic tail thumped against the floor. Siobhan came back to herself with a start.

"Hey, fur-face, everyone ready?"

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Thump thump thumpthumpthump. Mistral's tail beat a joyful tattoo against the floor.

"Let's roll, then."

Moon-silver eyes moved from Siobhan to the sleeping man, and back to her. A high pitched whine issued from the wolf's throat.

"No, love, he'll be better off without us."

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ARE YOU SURE THAT THIS IS WHAT YOU WANT TO DO, BELOVED? Drake's deep rumble once again echoed in her consciousness.

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This is the **last** thing I want to do--but I have to, and you know why!

Drake didn't answer, but Siobhan got the feeling that he didn't approve of her decision. She knew, however, that this was the correct course of action--the _only_ course of action left to her, in fact.

She took one last look back.

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Hyne…so beautiful.

After retrieving a small duffle from under the bed, Siobhan, shadowed by Mistral, slipped from the bedroom. A few moments more found her outside the house, making her way swiftly to the garage where her ATV waited. As she drew near the vehicle, four shadowy figures that had gathered near the garage turned to face her.

"It's about fucking time," an exasperated masculine voice said. "My ass just about froze--it's fucking _cold_ out here!"

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A/N--Part II: I'm not sure about this story--I don't usually write serious stuff. Let me know if I should stick to comedy. Also, there will be a LOT of flashbacks in the first few chapters--hopefully, they won't be too confusing. Let me know if they are. As always--please R/R. I'll be your frieeeeend!


	2. Chapter Two

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Fox and Hound

Chapter Two

Irvine stared blankly at the letter, trying to grasp its contents. Siobhan had left him--that much he understood.

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It's not just that we had our first serious fight…

True, but they'd made up--at least Irvine thought they had. Had she been planning this even as she made love with him? As she held him in the afterglow and murmured that she loved him?

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…we're just too different…

He'd never thought so. Even before they'd become lovers, Siobhan had seemed to be the missing part of himself. With her, he'd felt like part of a whole--an insider for a change, instead of the odd man out. Irvine had always thought that she'd felt the same. Apparently, he didn't know her as well as he'd thought.

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I've lied to you ever since we met…lies of omission…

Evidently, his lover had kept secrets from him. Dark secrets, judging from the fact that she couldn't even tell him in her letter. What could she possibly have done that she couldn't even talk to him about? He would still lover her, no matter what--didn't she know that?

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…you'll find out eventually…

The words sent a chill through the sniper. How could he find out what was wrong if she wasn't there to tell him?

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Why, Vonnie? Was it because I agreed to take the damned mission? I had to--you don't know what it was like. You've never had to face down one of those bitches--and I hope to Hyne you never do. If I can stop them, I have to--couldn't you understand that?

None of this made any sense. It wasn't like Siobhan to run away from anything. He'd fought by her side for four years, and he'd never seen her back down. Ever. The words of her letter, however, had conveyed a distinct tinge of fear.

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Dear gods, darlin, what could've scared you so much that you couldn't even come to me? What are you involved in? Why the fuck couldn't you trust me?

Irvine had gone over and over his lover's letter, but was no closer to understanding why he was now alone.

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Because you're a total fucking loser, Kinneas. Maybe Vonnie finally just figured that out.

No one ever had wanted Irvine. His life had been a series of one abandonment after another. First his parents--oh sure, Matron had told him that his parents were dead; killed in the war, but he knew better. They just hadn't wanted him. On his tenth birthday, Matron had given him the "good news" that he was being sent to Galbadia Garden to be trained as a SeeD. She hadn't wanted him either. Happy fucking birthday.

Then there was the Orphanage Gang, his childhood friends. When he met them again at GG, Irvine had been the only one of them to remember the childhood they had shared at Edea's little stone house by the sea. He'd been the one who took the others back into the past, reforging the memories and the bond that the long chain of years had obscured, but not completely swept away. And ultimately, he'd been the one excluded from the charmed circle--always the outsider. Irvine had done his best to fit in, to recapture the childhood closeness, to make them all love him as much as they did each other, but the years of separation in Galbadia had made him a stranger to them.

Sure, they'd needed him during the Sorceress war. But after it was over? They could give a fuck about him. The playful flirtatiousness that used to get a laugh from everyone, relax them and put them at ease suddenly began to piss everyone off. Evidently, his behavior was considered unbecoming to one of the six Saviors of the Planet. It had just been a mask, a way of coping--like Squall's reserve, or Quistis's ice-princess act--but the other's couldn't--or wouldn't--see that. To them, he was just Irvine-the-flirt…male slut. The Garden steed with a free ride for everyone. That was what his "friends" really thought of him.

So…what the hell, he began to play the part in earnest. It was better than being alone. He flirted and fucked his way through a large percentage of BG's female population, and when he was through, he started over again--this time with the men. He loved 'em and left 'em before they had a chance to leave him. Let someone else see how it felt to be abandoned. They wanted him to play the whore? Well, he'd play it--with a vengeance.

Irvine had secretly hoped that his childhood friends would see the despair, pain and loneliness that lay behind his behavior, that they'd try to intervene, show him that they cared about him. They didn't. instead, his former friends now avoided him and gave him icy glares of contempt when they were forced to be in his company. Missions became a form of slow torture.

Finally, it all became too much. One day, Irvine closed out his bank account, packed up his few belongings, and lit out for the territories. On his way out, he placed his medals, his SeeD commission, and some of his more outrageous press clippings into a large envelope, along with a hastily scrawled note.

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Fuck it. I can't take this any more. Sorry.

Irvine

Yeah…that had pretty much said it all. Shouldering his gun case and a black leather pack, Irvine had walked out of Garden and never looked back.

Now, five years later, here he sat alone. Unwanted. Abandoned once again. Irvine tilted the bottle of whisky up to his lips, taking a long draught of the amber liquid. He didn't even remember coming downstairs and retrieving the bottle--much less, drinking it.

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Heh heh…they say blackouts are one of the signs of a serious problem, Kinneas ol' buddy…

Tipping the bottle up once again, the sniper drained it of the remainder of its contents. The only problem he had right now was getting his hands on another bottle of liquid oblivion. Dropping the bottle to the floor, Irvine climbed unsteadily to his feet and, weaving slightly, crossed over to the liquor cabinet.

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Damn. No more whisky…just a couple bottles of Vonnie's absinthe.

Shrugging, Irvine snagged the bottles and returned to his chair. Slouching down into the cushions and stretching his long legs out before him, he thumbed the cork out of the first bottle.

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Hyne on a pony! How does Vonnie drink this shit?

Siobhan's poison of choice was a sweet, cloying, anise-flavored concoction--quite unlike the sharp liquid fire Irvine preferred. The stuff _did_ have quite a kick to it though. On the end table next to his chair, Irvine found a half-empty packet of Siobhan's spiced cigarettes. He lit one and inhaled the tangy cinnamon and clove flavored smoke. Strangely enough, they complemented the taste of the absinthe pretty well.

Smoking his lover's cigarettes and drinking her favorite liqueur provide the sniper with an odd sort of comfort--it made him feel somehow closer to her, as if she weren't really gone after all. Taking another pull from the bottle, Irvine closed his eyes and let his thoughts drift back to happier times.

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"Hey cowboy, buy you a drink?"

Irvine looked up to find a red haired woman sitting at his table, smiling mischievously at him.

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I know her, was his first thought upon meeting the woman's grey eyes. Irvine immediately pushed the thought away. He had never seen the woman before in his life.

"I can buy my own drinks," he'd growled, dropping his gaze to his glass once more.

It had been about a year since he'd left Garden, and the marksman had stayed on the move, supporting himself as a bounty hunter. He traveled around, sticking mostly to the less-populated areas, ridding them of refugees from the last lunar cry. It paid the bills, and it was work he was good at.

After his departure from Balamb, Irvine had gone through a sea-change, of sorts. However, he hadn't exactly transformed into "something rich and strange." Well…maybe the strange part applied. His former laid-back, happy-go-lucky demeanor was a thing of the past. Now, he presented an aloof, indifferent exterior to the world.

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My Squall impression.

The playful flirt was long gone. Although he wasn't exactly indifferent to women, Irvine no longer pursued them with his former enthusiasm. Nowadays, he actually tended to avoid them, fearful of falling back into old habits.

He'd been deliberately rude to the redhead who'd invited herself over, hoping she would get the idea and leave him alone. Evidently, she was a little slow on the uptake because she just sat back in her chair with that coquette-from-hell smile on her face.

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I've missed that smile. Again, the nagging feeling that he knew the woman popped up and was quickly pushed away.

"I'd really rather be alone," the marksman said bluntly, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on his glass.

"Then why come here?" she asked, gesturing vaguely at their surroundings. "If you _really_ wanted to avoid people, you could've just bought a bottle and wandered out into the middle of nowhere to drink it. But instead, you come _here_."

"I just came in to get warm."

"Oh." The woman nodded sagely, adopting a more solemn expression. "My mistake." She sat for a moment, a thoughtful look on her face. After a moment, another smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "It doesn't wash, you know," she chuckled.

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She hasn't changed. She never could stand to lose an argument.

Annoyed, Irvine looked up, "What doesn't wash?"

"Your excuse for being here," she explained. "It still doesn't work. You could've gone home--or wherever you're staying--if all you'd wanted to do was get warm. You didn't have to come here." She grinned at the sniper, obviously pleased with herself at having treed him with his own argument. 

Irvine stifled the answering grin that pulled at his own lips. Despite the fact that he was beginning to warm to the redhead and her playful teasing, the sniper forced a long-suffering note into his voice. "Is there something you want?" he asked wearily.

His companion's grey eyes flashed with…something other than amusement, and her countenance took on a more serious cast. Stretching out one leather-sheathed hand, her gloved fingertips brushed feather-like against his cheek.

"I've been looking for you for…a long time," she said quietly. "I'd almost given up--"

Irvine jerked his head away from the woman's hand, as if her were afraid of being struck.

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Sorry darlin, this déjà vu shit is just freaking me out a little too much.

"I _asked_ you to leave me be," he growled. "Don't make me _tell_ you."

The stranger gazed sadly at Irvine and sighed heavily. "It wasn't supposed to be like this," she said cryptically. "Somebody somewhere fucked up royally." Rising from her chair, she once again trapped Irvine's gaze with her own. "Well, I tried, Cowboy--I guess everything's more screwed up than I thought. I'll leave you now." 

Suddenly, her good-humored grin was firmly back in place. "But you're gonna miss me when I'm gone!" was her parting comment.

The sharpshooter forced himself not to watch the woman as she walked away.

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Okay…what the fuck was THAT all about?

Irvine spent an uncomfortable night freezing his ass off in an attic room of the tavern that had been the scene of his close encounter of the seriously freaky kind.

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MAYBE YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN NICER TO THE REDHEAD, Diablos chuckled. _SHE COULD HAVE KEPT YOU WARM._

Ignoring the Guardian, Irvine gathered his gear together and prepared to depart. He was heading to Bamburra, one of the little Trabian hill towns. They'd been overrun by monsters lately, and had put out a general call for bounty hunters to assist in clearing the area. The rewards were generous by small town standards, but not large enough to draw the better hunters from the more lucrative gigs. Less competition for Irvine, and more gil to boot.

As Irvine emerged out into the tavern's yard, the sharp winter wind cut through even his thick sheepskin coat. Turning his fleece collar up to protect his already sore throat, the gunman strode across the yard to the stables. Chocobos were better at negotiating the steep mountain trails than even the best ATV, so he'd arranged to hire one the previous evening. Only a Mesmerize was more surefooted--and even Irvine wasn't crazy enough to try believe he could make a mount out of one of those horses from hell.

After stowing his gear in the panniers and strapping his gun case to the back of the saddle. Irvine gave the weight distribution a final check before swinging stiffly into the saddle.

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What kind of idiot decides to travel through the Trabian highlands in midwinter?

ONLY YOU, O WISE ONE, Cerberus 3 chortled.

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HE COULD HAVE BEEN ALL COZY WITH THAT REDHEAD, Diablos said in a long-suffering voice. _SHE LOOKED LIKE SHE HAD MORE SENSE THAN TO FREEZE HER ASS OFF IN A DRAFTY ATTIC ROOM._

IF SHE WAS THAT SMART, THEN WHAT WOULD SHE WANT WITH KINNEAS? Cerberus 2 inquired.

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MAYBE SHE LIKES 'EM BIG AND STUPID? Cerberus 1 suggested.

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Will you guys shut up about the redhead, already? Irvine groused mentally. Reining the chocobo around sharply, the marksman dug his heels into his mount with enough force to elicit a startled _Warrk!_ from the bird. Irvine steered his mount out of the stable yard, the laughter of his GFs ringing in his head.

For about the twenty-seventh time that day, Irvine entertained the thought that he just wasn't a cold-weather sort of guy. After a couple of hours out on the trail, the marksman's condition had worsened from just a sore throat to a butt-kicker class cold--that was now possibly well on its way to becoming pneumonia. He'd tried casting Esuna on himself, but with only limited success. Cold germs were apparently hardy little bastards--and resourceful. Feeling more miserable by the second, the gunman leaned forward, resting his head against his mount's feathered neck and let his eyes slide closed.

Suddenly, the chocobo gave a startled squawk, and Irvine found himself flying through the air, the recipient of a blow fierce enough to shatter bone. The sniper hit the frozen ground and sucked in a sharp hiss of breath as he landed on his broken arm.

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What the fuck WAS that?

It took a moment for Irvine's blurred vision--he'd apparently suffered a blow to the head as well--to clear enough to make sense of the scene before him.

His chocobo lay on the snow about thirty meters away, its neck twisted at an unnatural angle, obviously broken. Just beyond his dead mount, a snow lion raged. About halfway between Irvine and the dead chocobo lay his gun case, torn from its lashings by the same blow that had killed the bird and sent the gunman flying.

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Too fucking far away, he thought. _I couldn't drag my ass that far if the entire BG cheerleading squad was waiting there. Have to go with magic._

The snowlion was rapidly closing the distance between itself and the wounded marksman. Desperately, Irvine accessed the area of his consciousness where the Guardians resided.

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Cerberus! Any time would be good!

I COME! Came the hell-hound's reply.

Irvine slipped into the state of unawareness that always occurred with the manifestation of a GF. When awareness returned, Irvine allowed himself the luxury of a single Curaga spell before immediately summoning Diablos. 

Again, Irvine faded into the area between as Diablos manifested and attacked. When the sniper phased back into reality, the snow lion was almost upon him. From somewhere, he found strength enough to cast three firaga spells, which slowed the immense beast, but didn't stop it entirely. Spent, Irvine rolled wearily onto his back and waited for the monster to finish him off.

__

Bye guys…Cerb…Diablos…hope your next host isn't such a fuck up.

Irvine felt a wave of heat rush over him. Startled, he opened his eyes in time to see…something…huge and red fly over him. Light footsteps pounded past him to the right.

With his good arm, the marksman rolled himself over onto his stomach, nearly passing out from pain when he jarred his shattered arm. Fighting back a wave of pain-induced nausea, Irvine raised his head to see why he wasn't dead yet.

An extremely pissed-off looking red dragon was spewing flames at the snow lion. Next to the dragon a figure stood with both arms extended. The left hand pumped out firaga spells at an alarming rate. The right appeared to be firing flaming bolts from a crossbow strapped to the forearm. Overcome by the sudden assault, the snow lion roared its agony before collapsing and exploding into flame.

__

Fuck me with a crowbar, Irvine thought, laughing giddily, _how the hell can anyone use that many attacks at once?_ A moment later, his head dropped heavily onto the snow as he slipped into unconsciousness.

Irvine awoke, wrapped in warmth and softness.

"Welcome back, Cowboy," a cultured alto voice said from somewhere outside his field of vision. "Lucky for you I know a little healing," the voice continued, "or you'd be nothing but a sticky spot out on the Bika snowfields."

Irvine tried to sit up in order to get a better look, both at his surroundings and his unknown hostess, but a gloved hand pressed firmly against his chest, forcing him back down onto the pillows of the bed on which he was reclining. Turning his head, Irvine followed the line of the restraining arm upward to meet the concerned gaze of the red haired woman from the tavern.

__

Hyne…why am I not surprised?

The woman introduced herself as Siobhan O'Hara. According to her, she too made her living as a bounty hunter and had been on her way to the same hunt as Irvine when she'd heard the roaring of the snow lion and had gone to lend a hand, if needed. It had been. After destroying the creature, she had retrieved his gun case and had brought the unconscious sniper back to her house which was only a few kilometers away. 

__

How the hell did she get me back here by herself? he wondered. 

While he'd been out of it, she'd brought in a real healing specialist to set his arm.

In the middle of the woman's explanation, Irvine erupted into a barrage of sneezes.

"Why do I still have this damn cold?" he asked when he finally recovered.

Siobhan shrugged. "I tried Esunas AND Curas," she stated. "Maybe there really _isn't_ a cure for the common cold."

Irvine's cold kept him confined to bed for five more days. During that time, he tried to find out more about his hostess--particularly how she was able to summon, cast spells, and attack physically all at the same time. She always evaded his questions, however, either dismissing what he'd seen as a fever-induced delusion, or distracting him with numerous games of Triple Triad--at which she cheated shamelessly.

When the marksman had recovered enough to travel, he restocked the supplies that had been lost and set off again for Bamburra--only this time, he wasn't alone.

****************************************

They'd been together ever since. First as business partners, then friends, and finally, as lovers.

__

Until now, Irvine thought morosely, draining the last of the absinthe left in the first bottle. As he uncorked the second bottle, Irvine had a vague idea that he had forgotten something he was supposed to do--something important. He briefly tried to focus his thoughts enough to remember what it was--only to decide it wasn't as important as taking another pull from the bottle.

A few minutes later, the bottle slipped from the sniper's slack fingers, falling to the floor with a soft thud and spilling its contents out onto the carpet.


	3. Chapter Three

****

A/N: This chapter contains some disturbing stuff--Siobhan did NOT have a very happy childhood. If bad things happening to kids bothers you, do yourself a favor and DON'T READ IT.

To A Voice in the Wind: Thanks for your review. You asked for more about Siobhan…well, here's more than you probably wanted to know about her! :D

*****

****

Fox and Hound

Chapter Three

__

Midsummer had always been her favorite time of the year. The trees surrounding her mountain home were a riot of fragrance and color. Siobhan had been away for a long time--she couldn't remember exactly why. It wasn't important, anyway. The only important thing was finding Irvine. She'd hurt him, and he was probably pissed off at her--again, she couldn't quite remember how or why--but she'd make everything up to him. And as long as there was breath left in her body, she'd never be separated from him again.

The door to her house was unlocked and stood slightly ajar. Good. Irvine must already be here, waiting for her. Perhaps he wanted reconciliation as much as she did. Pushing the door open, Siobhan stepped inside. Dropping her duffle in the foyer, she hurried into the sitting room, eagerly calling her lover's name.

The draperies were closed against the bright sunlight, shrouding the room in shadow. The air within was stale and still, and no one moved within the room's interior. Wherever Irvine was, he wasn't here. She quickly checked the remaining downstairs rooms, but her handsome Galbadian was in none of them. Even better. He was obviously waiting for her upstairs in their bedroom--hopefully, in their bed.

Siobhan wasn't even aware of running up the stairs. Suddenly, however, she found herself outside the bedroom door. Again calling her lover's name, she entered the room.

The bedroom was as devoid of life as the other rooms of the house. Disappointed, Siobhan was about to leave, when a small movement caught her eye. The French doors leading out to the balcony were open; a light summer breeze fluttered the draperies. Through the sheer fabric, Siobhan could discern her lover's familiar form leaning casually against the balcony's railing, his back to her, gazing out at the Trabian landscape.

Siobhan swiftly crossed the room to the balcony's entrance. "Irvine," she called softly, "I'm--"

At the sound of her voice, the sniper turned slowly to face her. The first thing Siobhan noticed was the insanity that burned in the amethyst eyes and twisted the beautiful face into the visage of a beast.

Oh gods!_ She thought in horror, _the bastards have finally driven him mad!

__

"Hyne, Irvine--I'm so sorry!" she cried, reaching out for the stricken man.

The gunman quickly raised Exeter to his shoulder and aimed the weapon at Siobhan.

"I'm a SeeD," he said in a dead, flat voice. "And SeeDs were created for one purpose."

As her maddened lover squeezed the shotgun's trigger, Siobhan suddenly realized that Irvine was not alone on the balcony. A young man with a scarred forehead obscured by an unruly mop of dark hair stood just behind the sniper. He gripped the ends of a leash that extended from his gloved hands to a barbed collar that encircled Irvine's throat.

The room's silence was shattered by he shotgun's thundering report. Almost instantaneously, Siobhan felt a searing pain in her chest as the round of ammo slammed into her, stopping her heart.

Gasping, Siobhan sat bolt upright. For a moment, she had no idea where she was and flailed wildly about in the darkness, trying to discern her whereabouts.

__

CALM YOURSELF, LITTLE ONE, came Drake's soothing rumble. _YOU'RE SAFE ABOARD THE TRAIN TO DELING CITY._

At the Guardian's words, Siobhan became aware of the engine's roar and the rocking of the compartment as the train rolled over the tracks.

__

SeeDs were created for one purpose…

Siobhan shuddered over the memory of her nightmare. Irvine's words haunted her. He had said them in order to justify his acceptance of the damned mission that had been the cause of Siobhan's flight. Her dream had taken her lover's words and twisted them, giving them a far more personal cast than Irvine had ever intended.

*****

****

NEW SORCERESS CONSPIRACY EXPOSED

Every day, some such headline appeared in the papers, inflaming the public's anti-sorceress sentiments even further. Ever since the last Sorceress War three years prior, it seemed that everything from rap music to fluctuations in the stock market was blamed on the nefarious schemes of sorceresses. This particular article claimed that the newest plot to achieve world domination was to seize control of the world's financial centers.

__

Jeez…they didn't even mention the part about eating babies and conducting obscene orgiastic rituals with various and sundry farm animals, Siobhan thought sarcastically.

Sorceresses had never been exactly popular--no one wielding such power ever was--but things had gotten worse since the Ultimecia incident. Restrictions against civilian use of all types of magic had been quickly enacted. Possession of Guardian Forces by anyone other than SeeD or "authorized military personnel"--whatever the hell _that_ meant--was strictly forbidden. Siobhan and Irvine could be sent to prison for the rest of their natural lives for that little infraction. So, they took great care to summon or use magic only when no one else was nearby.

Things grew steadily worse. Any woman known--or even suspected--of possessing sorceress powers was taken into "protective custody." They were usually never heard from again. The prohibitions against civilian magic use naturally increased requests for Garden assistance with everything from controlling local monster populations to climate manipulation to aid with crop production. Suddenly, SeeD controlled almost all aspects of civilian life. The Gardens were so efficient that they were able to assume this control without most people realizing what was happening until it was too late.

"Mornin' darlin." Irvine dropped a kiss on the top of her head before heading into the kitchen.

"About time you got your lazy ass out of bed, Cowboy."

Her lover made a wry face. "What do you expect when you keep me up all night, having your wicked way with me?" He poured himself a cup of coffee, nimbly dodging the potholder that sailed over the counter at him.

"I was there too, you know" she reminded him, "If _I_ can get up early, _you_ should be able to," Siobhan said smugly.

"Aw…I could never hope to live up to such a superior example as yourself," Irvine chuckled.

"True," Siobhan agreed, batting away the potholder on its return flight across the counter.

Irvine re-entered the dining area and dropped into the seat next to Siobhan. "So, what's going on in the world today, boo'ful?" he asked, looking over her shoulder at the newspaper.

"Same old crap," she said with a sour grimace. Frowning at the headline, Siobhan turned to the marksman and asked, "What do you think about all this anti-sorceress propaganda the media's been spouting lately?"

Irvine tilted back his ever-present Stetson, scratched his head and looked blankly at Siobhan. "Propaganda?" he repeated. "Isn't that a bit strong?" Grabbing the pack of Siobhan's spiced cigarettes that lay on the table between them, he withdrew two, lit them, and handed one back to Siobhan.

"Is it?" Siobhan asked, tapping the article she'd been reading. "Do _you_ really believe this stuff?"

The sniper skimmed the article. Shrugging, Irvine commented, "_That_ story may be a little farfetched--but I wouldn't put anything past those bitches."

"Oh--come _on_, Irv," Siobhan protested. "This is just political crap. Garden, Esthar, Galbadia--hell, even Trabia just want a scapegoat so that they have an excuse for seizing more and more power. They see u--sorceresses as a threat, so they try to make them out to be the enemy."

Irvine took a deep drag on his cigarette, considering Siobhan's words. Exhaling a cloud of fragrant smoke, he answered. "Maybe, darlin. But all I know is that I fought three of 'em, and from where I stand, they _are_ the enemy."

Siobhan shook her head. "Okay…maybe _they_ were, but does it naturally follow that _all_ of them are?"

Shrugging, Irvine answered, "Well, Rinoa was Okay. But she's the only good one I know about."

Thunder cloud grey eyes flashed a challenge at the sniper, "And how many sorceresses do you know?"

"Only those I just mentioned."

Siobhan rolled her eyes. "Not a very large sampling to judge an entire group on," she chided.

"Maybe not," Irvine agreed, "but based on what I _do_ know of them, I wouldn't trust one of those psycho bitches as far as I could throw Garden."

Siobhan said nothing more, but went back to scowling at the newspaper. After a few moments, Irvine leaned over towards his lover and affectionately nuzzled her ear. 

"I suppose I'll have to fix breakfast again, as usual," he growled in mock annoyance. "How d'you want your eggs, darlin?"

Siobhan turned to him and spat out several improbable, immoral--and possibly illegal--things that Irvine could do with the eggs, and then stormed from the room.

*****

__

SeeD were created for one purpose…

To kill sorceresses.

__

To kill…me?

All the "expert" scientists were wrong. Not all sorceresses inherited their powers. Siobhan had been born with her gifts--although she hadn't known what she was until the age of ten--when Drake had suddenly come into her life.

*****

"Nikko wasn't lying, you _are_ a pretty one."

Siobhan looked up at the sound of a strange voice. An elderly man had entered her cell and approached the bed on which she was laying.

__

Why are they always so old and ugly?

The man sat down on the edge of the bed and reached out to her, cupping her chin with one dry, age-withered hand, forcing her to look up into his pale, watery blue eyes.

__

I guess the young, pretty ones don't have to pay for sex.

"So young too…and fresh." If a snake could speak, it would do so with this man's voice. As hardened as Siobhan was after two years in Nikko's brothel, this old man chilled her to the bone.

Siobhan wrenched herself out of the man's grasp and scrabbled to the other side of the bed, dropping onto the floor.

"Come back here, child, I won't hurt you."

__

You lie, old man.

Her client wanted more than just sex; she could read it in his cold, watery eyes. He wanted her pain, her blood--possibly even her life. The thought of letting him touch her made Siobhan's flesh crawl, so she remained huddled between the bed and her cell wall, shivering with revulsion and terror.

The man stretched out a hand to her. "Don't be foolish, girl--it's not like you haven't done this before." Although he tried to adopt an amused, soothing tone, Siobhan could detect the underlying anger and impatience in the cold voice. 

"Now, come here, and don't make me fetch you." A cruel smile spread across the man's face, and Siobhan knew that the old man was hoping he'd have to do exactly that.

__

COURAGE, LITTLE ONE, a deep voice rumbled in her head.

Startled, Siobhan darted her eyes around her cell, trying to locate the voice's owner. Aside from herself and the old man, the room was empty.

__

Great. I'm going crazy on top of everything else.

The deep voice chuckled inside her head. _YOU'RE NOT CRAZY, LITTLE SORCERESS. I AM HERE, AND I CAN HELP YOU. NOW, GO TO HIM. TAKE HIS HAND._

No!

TRUST ME, the voice urged. _I WILL PROTECT YOU._

Her unseen champion then told her how to draw his power to herself. Rising from the floor, Siobhan smiled tentatively at the man and reached out to grasp the extended hand.

"Draw Draconis!" Siobhan felt a sudden onrush of tremendous power as her new friend merged with her and made himself at home in her consciousness.

A sharp blow sent the girl reeling backwards into the cell wall. Siobhan's head struck the hard cement, and she slid down to the floor, dazed.

"Give it back!" the old man shrieked, his face a mask of fury as he advanced on the ten-year-old. "Give it back, you fucking whore! You don't have the slightest idea how to use such power!" The enraged man dropped down into a crouch beside Siobhan, wrapped a gnarled hand around her throat, and began to squeeze the life out of her.

Her protector, however, was already murmuring to her, instructing her in the words that would allow her to fully access the power now raging within her.

The only man's eyes widened in surprise and…fear?…as the unfamiliar words tumbled from Siobhan's lips. Releasing the ten-year-old's throat, he tried to scrabble away from her.

__

Too late, you sick fuck.

The girl watched impassively as a huge, red beast materialized before her and spouted a jet of white-hot flames at the old man. The stench of roasting flesh filled the small cell, causing Siobhan to gag. Still, she couldn't tear her eyes away from the burning man.

"What the fuck is going on in here?" Nikko, drawn by the racket coming from Siobhan's cell, had poked his head in the door, ready to kick some ten-year-old ass if the girl was being difficult. Eyes as bright and cunning as a sewer rat's moved from Siobhan, to the dragon to the charred and smoldering heap on the floor. Not liking the sum of this particular equation, the brothel owner turned tail and ran for his life.

__

SHALL I DISPOSE OF THAT ONE AS WELL? Drake asked.

Siobhan shook her head, tangled in a confused web of emotions. Nikko often beat her when she was being "difficult" as he called it--sometimes, even when she wasn't--but he always tended her injuries himself, weeping over what her stubbornness had forced him to do to her. When he took her--as he usually did after beating the crap out of her--he at least tried to be gentle with her, unlike most of the sickos he sold her to. As much as she hated him, Nikko was the closest thing she had to a father, and Siobhan couldn't bring herself to kill him.

__

No. She finally answered her Guardian. _Don't kill him…unless he screws with us._

AS YOU WISH, LITTLE ONE. The rumbling bass voice sounded regretful as the beast merged back into her.

__

We need to get out of here, Siobhan thought. _If Nikko does come back, I'm gonna be in BIG trouble._

Siobhan padded to her cell door and peered cautiously into the hallway. Most of the other cell doors had opened, clients and the other captive children looking around for the source of the disturbance. Her eyes lighted on the closest, a boy who occupied the cell across from hers. A sweaty fat man stood gaping behind him.

"Make sure the others get out," Siobhan told the boy.

"Watcha gonna do?" he asked, wide-eyed.

"Burn it all up," she answered. With a contemptuous glance at the gaping fat man, she added, "You don't have to bother with _them_ if you don't wanna." With a feral grin, the boy ran into the corridor and began ushering the others out.

Once again, the words of power spilled from her lips and Drake roared his fury from above her.

__

Burn it! Burn it all down!

WITH PLEASURE, BELOVED.

And then, Siobhan was running toward the brothel entrance amidst a crowd of children. Behind them rose the sounds of Draconis's fury and the screams of the clients as they experienced the full weight of a dragon's wrath.

Even in the Deling slums, a herd of naked children flooding into the street was not a common sight. Those on the street when the captives made their escape, gawked for a moment, and then, shrugging, turned their attention elsewhere. Unusual though the sight was, it never paid to be too curious.

Once outside, Siobhan paused, waiting for the dragon's return. The other children didn't hesitate for a moment, but scattered off in different directions like leaves driven before an autumn wind. 

__

WE'D BEST MAKE OURSELVES SCARCE, LITTLE ONE, Drake said as he merged back into Siobhan's consciousness. _THE POLICE AREN'T AS OBLIGING AS THESE FOLKS ABOUT MINDING THEIR OWN BUSINESS._

Siobhan began to run again. Another figure appeared beside her--the boy who'd helped free the others. Stopping in her tracks, she turned to face her companion.

"Whatchoo want?" she asked curiously.

The boy, who up close appeared to be a couple of years older than Siobhan, smiled shyly at her. "Just wanted to say thanks," he said softly. Grasping her wrist lightly, the boy pulled Siobhan to him and pressed his lips firmly to hers. His kiss was much to passionate and much too knowing for a child…Like hers.

After a moment, the boy released her. "Well, good luck!" he said before pelting off into the night.

"You too!" Siobhan called after him before darting off in the opposite direction.

*****

Siobhan never saw the boy again, but neither did she forget him. The boy and his too-expert kiss was one of the few happy childhood memories she had. She often wondered what had become of him, where he was now, and if he ever thought about her--or even remembered her at all.

__

Well…a little girl with a pet dragon would be hard to forget, I suppose.

Smiling at the memory, Siobhan let herself recline back onto the bed.

__

Better get some sleep before meeting Jared tomorrow--You know how he is--one look at these steamer trunks under your eyes and he'll have you strapped down to a hospital bed…probably have Finn hang around to make sure you stay there too…

Siobhan closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind so that sleep could enter. Sleep however, evaded the sorceress; Irvine's eyes haunted her whenever she closed her own.

Giving up on sleep finally, Siobhan sat up again, flicking on the compartment's light switch. Retrieving her duffle from the floor, she reached in and withdrew her cigarette case.

__

Fuck the no-smoking rules. I NEED this.

Thumbing her lighter, Siobhan touched cigarette to flame and inhaled the spicy smoke. Flicking the light off again, she leaned her forehead wearily against the cool glass of the compartment window and glared out into the night.

*****

In the year or so since Siobhan had escaped from Nikko's, Drake had taught her many useful abilities. With his help, for example, she was able to move, unseen, through a crowd. It was in this way that she was able to feed and clothe herself--since no one seemed willing to give an eleven-year-old child a job. Not a legitimate job, at any rate. So, she stole to survive. She wasn't proud of it, but it was better than starving.

Her Guardian had also begun to teach her how to use her own innate powers. How to draw up energy from the planet itself and mold it into the form she wanted it to take. It was hard to do, so the dragon began to teach her simple meditation techniques that would strengthen her concentration and focus.

One evening, the young sorceress was practicing an exercise that Drake had given her: visualize a tree--see its form, feel the texture of the bark under her hands, smell its woodiness and the scent of the foliage. The tree popped into focus behind her closed eyelids--along with an entire forest. Although Siobhan knew that the sun was just beginning to set; however, in her vision, the sky was dark, with just a sliver of moon smiling down at her through the tree's branches. From somewhere nearby, a beautiful melody floated through the air.

The music seemed to be coming from the tree--her tree--so she stood up and walked over to where it sprang up from the forest floor. Yes. It was definitely coming from somewhere deep inside the tree's wooden heart. Trailing one hand along the rough bark of the trunk, Siobhan walked slowly around the tree.

Suddenly, her hand passed through the trunk's surface, and Siobhan found herself standing before a yawning black doorway. The gentle strains of melody wafted out to her, and without thinking twice, she entered.

Following the music, Siobhan passed through a dark passageway lit only by scattered rush-lights along the ceiling. Eventually, the passage opened into a brightly lit chamber: the source of the melody she was following. 

In the room, two figures, a man and woman, danced together. The woman had black hair, like a cloud at midnight, and her eyes were twin silver moons glowing up at her partner. The man's long, silver-white hair was caught into a thick braid that snaked down his back, brushing the floor as he danced. His eyes were the color of the sun. Spinning and whirling in time to the music, the couple swept over the floor closer and closer to where Siobhan stood watching.

As the couple drew near, they turned to the young girl and extended their arms to her, smiling.

"Come dance with us, little sister," the woman called out, laughing.

Siobhan ran to the pair, wrapped an arm around the waist of each and allowed herself to be swept into the dance.

Her partners smiled down at her. "We've waited a long time for you to come to us," the man chided gently.

"I'm sorry," Siobhan said, "I didn't know you were waiting for me."

The woman gave her a reassuring squeeze. "Of course you didn't, child." Giving her partner an exasperated glare, she continued. "You're here now, that's the important thing."

"Who _are_ you?" Siobhan asked.

The woman chuckled and shot a challenging glance at her partner. "Would you like to field that one, hot stuff?"

The man beside her looked suddenly uncomfortable. "Um…no?" he said hopefully.

The woman rolled her silver eyes and laughed. "Wimp," she said affectionately, and stuck her tongue out at her partner.

"Promises, promises," the man chuckled, waggling his eyebrows suggestively at the woman.

__

Sheesh, someone needs to hose those two down, Siobhan thought to herself. _They're getting embarrassing._

The girl cleared her throat impatiently, bringing the attention of the overheated pair back to her question.

"Oh…right," the woman said, a slight flush streaking across her cheeks. "Well, to put is bluntly, kid…I'm you…or rather, _you _used to be _me._"

"Huh?" Siobhan struggled to make sense out of the woman's words.

The man rolled his eyes. "_I_ could've done better than that," he said wryly, chuckling at his partner's angry glare.

"I can't give you all the background right now," the woman said, "our time here is very limited--but suffice it to say that we all live many lifetimes--usually with the same souls popping up together in various guises--as friends, parents, siblings, etc."

Siobhan nodded. Drake _had_ mentioned something like this in one of his lessons.

Noting the girl's sudden comprehension, the woman continued, "Some souls travel together through lifetime after lifetime, becoming so closely intertwined that they seem to be two halves of the same whole rather than separate beings--follow me?"

Siobhan nodded again. "So…if _you're_ me," she said, looking at the woman, "then _he's_…"

The woman nodded, smiling, "Right! This, I'm sorry to say, is what the fates have stuck us with for all eternity." The woman's mischievous smile took the sting from her words.

"But something's gone wrong this time," the man told her. "You were supposed to have found me by now--" he broke off, looking confused, "or rather, you were supposed to have found my counterpart--" The man broke off again, giving the woman an exasperated look. "This is damn hard to explain."

"Showing's easier than telling," the woman said.

Still clasping Siobhan between them, the couple began to twirl faster and faster. Suddenly, the room was filled with dancing couples, spinning and stepping in time to the music.

Wide-eyed, Siobhan asked, "Are those all--"

"Us," the man and woman finished in unison.

"We're _very_ old souls," the woman explained.

"Ah," the man said, "There's _your_ partner, I believe." He pointed across the room.

On the other side of the chamber stood a boy about Siobhan's age. He seemed to be mostly a tangle of long arms and legs as he slouched against the far wall, trying to exude an aura of coolness. A black Stetson that looked to be at least two sizes too big was tilted forward over his face.

Siobhan looked at the older couple in dismay. "A _cowboy_?" she wailed. "Couldn't he be, like, a biker, or something cool like that?"

The couple laughed. "Go over and talk to him," the woman urged, "I think you'll like him."

"Yeah…right," Siobhan muttered, but did as she was told.

At Siobhan's approach, the boy straightened up and tilted back his hat, revealing his face.

__

I think I can work with this.

"Hey, pretty lady," the boy drawled in a voice that was just beginning the transformation from childish tenor to the soft baritone of adulthood, "I see the ol' Kinneas charm drew you over like a moth to a flame."

Siobhan giggled, "It's you, all right!" She glanced back at the older couple across the room.

"Huh?" The boy scratched his head, causing his hat to tip back over his face. He pouted for a moment when Siobhan laughed again, but after a bit, a broad grin stretched across his face.

"I'm Irvine Kinneas," he said, extending his hand.

"Siobhan O'Hara." Siobhan took the offered hand, but instead of shaking hands with her, Irvine lifted her had to his lips and dropped a gentle kiss onto it.

The young sorceress rolled her eyes. This kid was a piece of work, alright. Again, she glanced over at the other couple who stood beaming like proud parents at their current incarnations.

Irvine followed Siobhan's line of vision. "They your parents?" he asked, a wistful note creeping into his voice.

"Um…sorta," Siobhan said hesitantly, not quite sure how to explain who the couple really was.

The boy slumped back against the wall. "Must be nice…" he sighed. "I ain't got no parents." Dusky violet eyes again gazed wistfully at the pair across the room and blinked back the tears that suddenly welled up within them.

Unsure of herself in the role of comforter, Siobhan snaked an arm tentatively around the boy's thin shoulders. They stood together in silence for a moment, neither child sure what to say next. Suddenly, Irvine stepped away from Siobhan, his infectious grin firmly back in place.

"Hey, you don't need to worry about me!" he said cheerfully. "I'm doin great! Just started sniper training this year--at Galbadia Garden, you know--I'm gonna be a SeeD someday."

"A seed?" Siobhan repeated, puzzled. "What kind of seed?"

The boy rolled his eyes with the scorn that only the worldly wisdom of twelve can assume towards the ignorance of eleven. "Jeez, don't you know nothin?" he asked. "A SeeD--you know, a mercenary. I may even fight a sorceress someday," he said proudly.

Siobhan gulped. "Why a sorceress?" she asked in a choked voice.

"'Cos that's what SeeDs _do_," Irvine explained patiently.

"Oh." Siobhan stared at the floor, blushing.

"Siobhan," the woman called from across the room, "it's time to go now, child."

The young sorceress turned back to the boy. "I gotta go now, Okay?" she said, "maybe I'll see you again, though, huh?"

The young cowboy grinned and tilted back the hat that had once again slipped over his eyes. "Yeah doll, that'll be great--if I can schedule you in. I'm a pretty busy guy, you know."

Shaking her head, Siobhan turned away and began walking back towards the older couple. A slim hand touched her shoulder, and she turned to find Irvine looking at her seriously, all traces of his former bravado gone.

"Um…Sha--Sha--" he stumbled over the unfamiliar syllables of her name.

"Shih-vawn" Siobhan pronounced slowly for him.

"Shih-vawn," he repeated carefully. "Thanks." He looked down at the floor, a slight blush setting off the dusting of freckles that ran across the bridge of his nose.

"Umm…I-I was just kiddin' a minute ago…uh…I'dreallylikeitifyoucouldcomebacksometimeokay?" The words, once he'd decided to say them, came out in a torrent. When he'd finished, Irvine turned pleading eyes up to meet Siobhan's.

"O-okay," Siobhan stammered, "I'll try."

The young cowboy heaved a sigh of relief. "Great!" he exclaimed. "Hurry back soon, Shi--um…Vonnie!" Smiling shyly, he added, "I really like you!" He kissed Siobhan on the cheek and then ran toward the exit.

Siobhan touched the place on her cheek where Irvine had kissed her. "I like you too, Cowboy!" she called after the retreating figure.

Irvine paused for a moment. He tipped his oversized hat, winked, and then pelted off towards the exit again.

"Well, Siobhan, how did you like your partner?" The man and woman had appeared by her side again. Looking around, Siobhan noticed that the other dancers had disappeared, and the music had stopped.

"I liked him," she said smiling.

The couple laughed. "Of course you did," the man said smugly, flicking his long braid over his shoulder. "After all, what's not to like?"

Siobhan and the woman both laughed. "What indeed?" the woman said, gazing at her partner affectionately.

"So…what do I do now?" the young sorceress asked.

"Go to him, of course," the woman said, astonished that Siobhan even had to ask. "You know where he is, don't you?"

The girl nodded. "Galbadia Garden."

"Good," the man said. "Now listen carefully, child, our time is almost up, and there's a bit more we have to tell you."

"First of all," the woman began, "When you find him in the real world, he won't remember this little…encounter…so don't expect him to."

"Second," the man continued, "Something--we don't know what exactly--has gone wrong with this incarnation. The two of you should have met long before this. The pattern has been almost completely disrupted--neither of you had the childhood you were supposed to have. Irvine was never supposed to enter Garden--he's--_we're_--completely unsuited to that sort of life. _You_ were certainly never supposed to be used the way that Nikko bastard used you--" the man's golden eyes turned blood red at the thought of Siobhan's previous life.

The woman squeezed her partner's hand, "Never mind, love," she said softly, "It's over now, and she's strong--_we're_ strong." The two counterparts smiled at each other.

"So, in order to bring the pattern back to its proper state," the woman continued, "you must find your cowboy and ask him to dance."

"Dance?" Siobhan asked, confused.

"I'm speaking metaphorically, of course," the woman explained vaguely. "Once he accepts, you must make sure to hold him tight, and never--I repeat, _never_--let go of his hand."

"If you do," the man warned, "the pattern will fall into even greater disorder, which would bring disaster for both of you."

"I'll remember," Siobhan promised solemnly.

" Our time is at an end, little sister," the woman said, "Farewell!"

*****

__

…Find your cowboy and ask him to dance…hold him tight…never let go of his hand…I'll remember…

Siobhan sat up suddenly, banging her head painfully against the top of her berth.

__

I didn't remember! Shit, it didn't even make sense to me at the time! What the hell kind of idiot talks in metaphor to a fucking eleven-year-old anyway?

The words from her childhood vision had puzzled her at the time--but now, they finally made sense--terrible sense.

__

Fuck, fuck, FUCK! I fucking let go of his fucking hand!

By leaving Irvine, Siobhan had thought that she would be making things easier for him in the long run. He was a SeeD, she was a sorceress, and never the twain shall meet. He would do what he had to do; she, what she had to. And maybe, when it was all over, they would be able to work things out between them--if they both survived. Siobhan had thought she was doing the right thing, but as it turned out, she'd probably just destroyed them both.

__

Gods, Irv--I'm sorry…I'm so fucking sorry!

*****

****

A/N: Phew! This was a loooong chapter! Siobhan obviously had a lot on her mind. 

I know all the characters are flashing back like refugees from the original Woodstock, but all the flashbacks seem to be necessary to the story. Eventually, everything will be explained and the flashbacks will cease. 

Thanks to the reviewers--BOTH of you!--for your kind words. I hope someone else will R/R as well, because I'M beginning to feel like the "voice howling in the wilderness." 


	4. Chapter Four

****

Fox and Hound

Chapter Four

"ESUNA!"

Irvine felt the warm tingling sensation of the spell even through the liquor-induced fog he had hidden in for the past two days. Clenching his eyes shut, he tried to resist the effects of the cleansing spell and retreat back into his stupor, but to no avail. As his senses slowly returned, he realized that he was sitting in a puddle. A _cold_ puddle. And it was raining.

__

Wha fuck? How come it's raining in the house?

"Get up, Kinneas" commanded a voice that was even colder than the water currently pouring down on him. Leaning back against the tile wall of the shower, Irvine groaned softly. He knew that voice.

__

Leonhart…What the fuck does he want?

"I said get up!" A hand grabbed the sniper by the front of his water-logged vest and hauled him roughly to his feet. Irvine tentatively cracked one eye open.

__

Yep. There it is. The patented Squall "Blizzaga" Leonhart You-fucked-up-AGAIN-Kinneas glare.

"What the hell do you want, Squall?"

The SeeD commander, still clutching Irvine by the vest, yanked the sniper downwards until his former colleague's nose was a mere hairs-breadth away from his own.

"You were supposed to report for a mission briefing yesterday, "Squall snapped. "You never showed, so I came looking for you." Squall's face twisted into a contemptuous sneer. "And I found you here--drunk off your ass, as usual. The only surprise was that you weren't in bed with three or four of your groupies--What's the matter, Kinneas? Lost your touch with the ladies?"

Irvine opened his mouth to reply, but before he could say anything, Squall pushed Irvine away, turned on his heel, and strode toward the door. 

"Get into some dry clothes and get your sorry fucking ass downstairs," the SeeD called back over his shoulder, "And don't take all day about it."

By the time Irvine had dried off and changed, most of the events of the past forty-eight hours had come back to him.

__

Oh Hyne…Vonnie…

She was gone.

Irvine sat down on the bed, buried his face in his hands, and let his grief overtake him. The one good thing in his life, and he'd screwed it up…as usual.

Glancing up at the nightstand, his eyes found a picture in a silver frame. Siobhan and himself, both grinning like idiots. In her arms, his lover hugged a butt-ugly stuffed Tri-Face. Despite his pain, a small smile tugged the corners of the gunman's lips upwards.

__

Six Flags over Trabia…our first kiss…

**********

"Come ON, Kinneas! Move your skinny ass!" Siobhan laughed, grabbing Irvine's wrist and dragging him after her. "I've got a need…for speed!"

The Galbadian looked dubiously at the roller coaster that his partner was determinedly dragging him towards. A trainload of screaming coaster-junkies whizzed by overhead. Irvine cringed; that train had to be travelling at least 5000 kph.

"Uh, O'Hara? How 'bout we ride the carousel instead?" he suggested, giving Siobhan a queasy smile.

Siobhan rolled her eyes and continued pulling him towards the giant death machine. Just before they got in line, Irvine dug in his heels, refusing to proceed any further.

"Think I'll just sit this one out," he said, "You go on…have fun."

His partner gave him a disappointed look. "Aww…come on, Irv--it's no fun riding alone."

The marksman gestured at the line of masochists queued up for torture, "You'll hardly be alone--" he began.

Siobhan rolled her eyes again, "You know what I mean!" She began tugging at his wrist again, "Come on, you'll love it!"

Desperately, Irvine scanned the vicinity for something to distract his partner. His gaze fell on a nearby shooting gallery and a relieved grin spread across his face.

"How 'bout I get you another coaster buddy?" he asked.

"Huh?" Siobhan shot him a puzzled look.

"Come on," he grinned. This time, it was the Galbadian who grabbed his partner's wrist and set off at a run, yanking Siobhan behind him.

"I should have known," she moaned in mock despair as they reached the gallery entrance.

Irvine grinned and handed over some gil to the attendant.

"You'd think he'd get enough of this out in the field," his partner commented to no one in particular, "and _not_ waste a day off on such nonsense--particularly when there are coasters to be ridden--"

"Quiet woman!" the gunman growled as he peered down the rifle barrel, "I've gotta save the world from these dastardly--" he gave the targets a menacing glare, "duckies and bunnies!"

Siobhan threw up her hands in surrender, "Knock yourself out, Cowboy."

Fifteen minutes later, Irvine had won enough prize tickets to claim the shooting gallery if he had so desired. Setting the rifle down, he turned to find that a small crowd had gathered to watch. A smattering of applause broke out as he stepped back from the table and beckoned to his partner.

"Choose your coaster partner, O'Hara," he drawled, smiling. "How 'bout that pink chocobo? He looks like he'd enjoy a ride on that death machine."

Siobhan wrinkled up her nose and shook her head.

A lime green moggle, a bright yellow PuPu, and an electric blue moomba each met with a similar rejection. A brilliant scarlet torama briefly caught the redhead's eye, but before she could claim it, her eyes discerned something else that caused her to break out in a dazzling smile.

"I'll take that one!" she said, pointing.

When Irvine saw what his partner had chosen, he nearly doubled over with laughter. The attendant handed Siobhan's prize to her, and the two partners exited the shooting gallery.

"Leave it to you to chose the most butt-ugly monstrosity in the place," he laughed.

Siobhan held the purple and green mottled tri-face out at arm's length and regarded it critically. "_I_ think he's cute," she insisted.

"Bleah!" Irvine crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue in distaste.

His partner ignored him and continued to extol the virtues of her prize. "He's a handsome devil, alright." She laughed and shot her partner a sidelong glance, "A real lady-killer." After a moment, an evil grin spread across her face, "That's it! I'll name him _Irvy_!"

The sniper gave her a sour glare, "You do, and you can walk back home."

Unabashed, Siobhan jingled the keys hooked to her beltloop. "_I_ won't be the one walking, Cowboy," she said cheerily.

Shoulders slumped in defeat, Irvine hooked his thumbs in his pockets and walked beside his partner in sullen silence.

Still grinning maliciously, Siobhan held the stuffed monster out before her again. "Irvy," she pronounced firmly, and kissed her prize on all three of its ugly noses before hugging it to her chest. The huntress gave her partner another sidelong glance.

__

I wish she'd hug ME like that…

Now where had that thought come from? Despite his partner's pretty face and astounding figure, Irvine had never thought of Siobhan O'Hara as anything other than a business partner and a friend. He liked his women a little more petite, a little more feminine, and a _lot_ less dominant. O'Hara was not exactly the most feminine flower that Irvine had ever crossed paths with. Bare footed, his partner stood nearly as tall as Irvine, and was almost as strong as well. She was one hell of a good fighter; there was no one else he'd rather have watching his back--and that included the other members of the orphanage gang. Siobhan was frighteningly competent in battle, and Irvine was romantic enough to favor women who had more of the damsel-in-distress about them. His partner would never need a white knight to come charging to her rescue. No. O'Hara just wasn't his type.

Then why did he feel a sudden wave of jealousy wash over him? He refused to believe that he was envious of a cheap, ugly, stuffed toy just because his partner had kissed it and held it in her arms. Irvine replayed his partner's actions of the last few minutes: the sidelong glances, naming her prize "Irvy" just before kissing it…

__

If I didn't know her better, I'd say she was flirting with me…

Now _that_ was a really crazy idea. O'Hara was the least flirtatious woman he'd ever met, and she'd never given the slightest indication that she thought of him as anything other than a friend.

__

The redhead stretched out a leather-sheathed hand and brushed his cheek with a feather light touch. "I've been looking for you for…a long time, Cowboy," she said softly.

Stunned, Irvine stared at his partner as if he'd never seen her before. O'Hara had sat down on a park bench and was bouncing Irvy the Tri-Face on her knee. When her gaze met the sniper's, she smiled mischievously and dropped a slow wink that made Irvine feel as if he'd gone into a free-fall.

__

She IS flirting with me! I don't believe it. 

I THINK HE'S FINALLY BEGINNING TO SEE THE LIGHT! Cerberus 2 said.

__

TOOK HIM LONG ENOUGH, Cerberus 3 chuckled

__

HE ALWAYS WAS A BIT SLOW, Diablos reminded his companions.

__

WELL? Cerberus 1 demanded, _ARE YOU GONNA KISS HER, OR JUST STAND THERE ALL DAY?_

Shut up and let me think! Irvine mentally ordered the GFs. This was a real problem. Although he was elated at the thought that his partner might actually want him, he didn't want to destroy what friendship they had if things didn't work out. He didn't have so many friends that he could just throw them away without thinking about it. He had a good working relationship with O'Hara, and whatever he did next might change that forever. Irvine wanted to make sure that he didn't change it for the worse.

__

I don't know, O'Hara…I'd like to be more than friends, but I always end up pissing people off…I'm afraid…

SHA-LA-LA-LA-LA, OH MY MY, YOU KNOW DE BOY'S TOO SHY--AIN'T GONNA KISS DE GIRL, Diablos sang in a phony Jamaican accent.

__

SHA-LA-LA-LA-LA, AIN'T THAT SAD? IT'S A SHAME, TOO BAD! HE'S GONNA MISS DE GIRL! Cerberus 1, 2 and 3 harmonized in response. The GFs' laughter echoed within Irvine's consciousness.

__

YOU'RE THINKING TOO MUCH AGAIN, Diablos informed him. _TRUST YOUR FEELINGS FOR ONCE._

Sighing, Irvine pushed his Stetson back and walked over to the bench to take a seat next to his partner. _If she kicks my ass for this…_The sniper sincerely hoped that he hadn't mistaken friendly teasing for something more. 

__

Fuck! Here goes a perfectly good working relationship down the toilet, he thought as he removed his namesake from Siobhan's lap and dropped it to the ground at their feet. At his partner's quizzical look, Irvine placed a finger lightly against her lips.

"Hush," he commanded softly, "Not a word, O'Hara." Cupping a hand behind her neck, Irvine pulled his partner toward him.

__

Hyne…she's probably gonna deck me for this…

The last thing he saw was a pair of wide thundercloud grey eyes flashing silver lightening before his own eyes slid closed, and he pressed his lips gently against his partners'.

O'Hara's body stiffened momentarily, and Irvine thought that he was indeed about to be knocked on his ass. Almost immediately, however, she relaxed, and even went so far as to wind her arms around his neck as she enthusiastically returned his kiss. Tentatively, he ran his tongue along the seam of her lips.

__

Cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg…she DOES taste like those damn cigarettes…I always wondered… Again, the marksman was surprised by his own thoughts. He had never thought about O'Hara as anything but a friend, but he'd wondered what kissing her would be like? None of this made any sense. 

Siobhan's lips parted, allowing Irvine further access, but the sniper didn't press any further. He was just happy to be in the huntress's arms--and that she hadn't knocked him on his ass. Ignoring the catcalls and wolf-whistles from some of the passersby, Irvine slid his hands down to Siobhan's waist and pulled her closer.

When they finally parted, Irvine affectionately nuzzled Siobhan's hair, drinking in her scent of jasmine and spices.

__

I should have done that a long time ago!

Placing her lips against Irvine's ear, Siobhan whispered, "About time you got the idea, Cowboy--I thought I was gonna have to draw you a picture." A warm, moist tongue flicked playfully at his earlobe. Teeth caught and tugged at the small silver hoop he wore, and a throaty chuckle sounded in his ear. 

In the end, she even got him on that damn roller coaster. Five times.

**********

Irvine lay curled up on the bed, clutching Siobhan's pillow to his chest. Her exotic scent still lingered on the linen pillowcase. Across the room, Irvy the butt-ugly Tri-Face mocked him with a triplicate grin.

__

What the hell are you laughing at, you ugly bastard? She left you behind too.

The bedroom door was suddenly thrown open, slamming against the wall with a loud bang. In the doorway, Squall stood glowering down at Irvine.

__

Shit…Forgot about him.

Squall strode into the room, grabbed Irvine by the shirt collar and hauled him off the bed.

"Damn it to fuck, Kinneas," the commander growled, "You've never been worth the amount of trouble you cause." Keeping a firm grasp on Irvine's shirt, Squall steered the marksman out the door and down the stairs. When they arrived in the living room, Squall pushed Irvine roughly down on the sofa before taking a chair on the other side of a low coffee table. A stack of folders rested on the glass surface.

"Uh…Squall…" Irvine began, "I'm sorry about not showing up for the briefing, but…I've had…I mean, my…" the sniper stared at the floor, unable to continue.

The SeeD commander looked up, scowling. "Spare me your excuses, Kinneas. I don't want to hear them." He went back to flipping through file folders, pulling out some, and setting others aside. Irvine sat quietly on the sofa, staring at his hands which were folded in his lap.

__

Frosty son of a bitch…why send me if I'm so fucking incompetent?…Bastard makes me feel like a damned retarded chocobo.

At last, Squall finished sorting through the pile of papers. He tapped the top folder with one finger before sliding it over to the sniper.

"This file contains the most recent research on sorceresses," he said. "Save it to read on the train." Irvine nodded and set the thick folder to the side.

"This one, " Squall said, handing Irvine a much thinner folder, "is a dossier on your target." Irvine opened the folder and glanced at the documents. A rap sheet, a psychological profile, and a blurry black and white photograph.

"She's called the Shadow Fox," Squall continued, "and we don't really know much else about her--she appeared out of nowhere about two years ago. Heads up a terrorist organization called Sisters of the Shadow--apparently all sorceresses."

Irvine looked at the grainy photograph. "Crappy picture," he remarked, tossing it back onto the coffee table. "Can't tell fuck-all what she looks like."

Squall nodded. "That was taken from a surveillance video." The commander tapped the photograph and continued, "Look closely--you couldn't see her face even if the picture was crystal clear. Shadow Fox always wears a mask and hood over her face and hair. _That's_ how you'll recognize her."

Irvine nodded, "Got it."

"Tell me what you make of this," Squall again tapped the photo, drawing Irvine's eyes to a particular spot.

In the foreground of the picture stood a black draped figure--obviously his target--fighting a Galbadian soldier. Where Squall had pointed, however, was slightly to the rear of the sorceress. The graininess of the photo made the image difficult to make out, but eventually Irvine was able to discern the figure of a light haired man in what looked like a white or grey trenchcoat. The figure was swinging a wicked looking bladed weapon at his adversary.

Irvine gave a low shistle. "So the lapdog's hooked up with another sorceress."

Squall nodded, "Looks that way. This could be the biggest break we've had--find Seifer, and you'll likely find Shadow Fox."

"Any idea where to start looking?"

The commander nodded. "Some," he said. "We've infiltrated the Sisterhood. Our agent has supplied us with the location of the Fox's lair--in Deling City."

"So I'm going to Deling?"

"No." The SeeD shook his head. "We have a team of operatives moving in to neutralize the group even as we speak."

"Then what do you need me for?"

"According to our agent, Shadow Fox is on her way to Odine's lab in Esthar. Remember the Junction Ellone device that Ultimecia had in the future?" Squall waited for Irvine's nod of confirmation before continuing. "Apparently, that's the Fox's target. She's planning on stealing the device--probably with the intention of either using it herself, or just holding onto it until Ultimecia finds it."

"So, I'm going to Esthar to stop her."

"Exactly," Squall said. "You'll be stationed on the roof over the main doorway. Our agent will be with her and will give you a signal. When you see it, take your shot and eliminate the target."

"What's the signal?" Irvine asked.

The commander shrugged. "I don't know exactly," he confessed, "but I believe you'll know it when you see it--at least, that's what our operative says, at any rate." Squall began to gather the files he wasn't leaving with Irvine. "Any questions?" he asked.

"Yeah," Irvine said, "When do I leave?"

"Your train leaves tomorrow morning. You should arrive in Esthar the following morning and make contact with Kiros Seagill. He'll meet you at the station and provide you with clearance to enter Odine's lab."

"Who's my relief?"

"No one, you're going in alone."

Irvine shook his head. "I'm not a damn machine, _commander_--unlike you. I can't maintain surveillance indefinitely. When am I supposed to sleep?"

"Our operative has given us a pretty good idea of when Shadow Fox is gong to make her attempt, so you shouldn't have to be up there any longer than 24 hours. Think you can go without your beauty sleep for that long?" Squall sneered.

"What day?"

"She's due two days after you arrive. Be sure to look over the area after you arrive. Find the best vantage point, and then get some sleep--alone-- so you don't fall asleep on the job."

The sniper bristled. "You don't have to tell me how to do my job."

Squall snorted his derision. After a moment, he continued, "Needless to say, if you're captured, SeeD will deny all knowledge or responsibility for your presence."

Irvine nodded. No surprises there.

The commander finished gathering up files and rose from his chair. After handing Irvine an envelope containing his train tickets, Squall headed for the door. Before making his exit he turned to make a final dig at the sniper.

"Oh, and by the way, Kinneas," he said, voice frigid with contempt, " I don't want a repeat of the clocktower incident. No one will be there to hold your hand and baby you through this--so don't fuck up this time."

__

Is the bastard ever going to quit riding me about that?

Irvine narrowed his eyes and glared at the SeeD. "You know that was different," he said. "I was the only one who remembered Matron; I just _couldn't_ kill her--"

Squall shook his head, "Personal feelings should never get in the way of completing a mission."

"Don't worry," the sniper said bitterly, "there's no personal feelings here to get in the way."

Squall gazed at Irvine impassively. "Good. Because I promise you, Kinneas, fuck this up and I'll kill you myself." Allowing himself a tight smile at the gunman's surprised expression, Squall strode out of the house.

__

SOMEONE NEEDS TO YANK THE STICK OUT OF THAT BOY'S ASS, Diablos commented as Irvine watched Squall get into his car and drive away.

__

YEAH, Cerberus 1 agreed, _AND THEN BEAT HIM OVER THE HEAD WITH IT._

SERIOUSLY, said Cerberus 3.

Irvine sighed wearily. _He just wants the mission to be successful. Hyne knows, my past record doesn't exactly inspire confidence._

Cerberus 2 snorted,_ THEN WHY DID HE COME TO YOU IN THE FIRST PLACE? IF YOU'RE SUCH A FUCK UP, WHY PLACE AN IMPORTANT MISSION IN YOUR HANDS?_

Because I'm expendable…

BECAUSE YOU'RE THE BEST, Diablos corrected, _AND THAT FRIGID SON OF A BITCH KNOWS IT--WHETHER HE'LL ADMIT IT OR NOT._

Squall must have really pissed the GFs off if they were actually defending Irvine. Normally, Diablos and Cerberus made the sniper squirm under the assault of their sarcastic comments.

__

THAT'S DIFFERENT, Cerberus 2 said smugly, _YOU'RE OUR HOST, AND WE LOVE YOU, SO WE CAN SAY WHAT WE WANT._

RIGHT, Diablos agreed, _BUT EVERYONE ELSE HAD BETTER KEEP A CIVIL TONGUE IN THEIR HEADS._

The GFs' statement stunned the sniper. _You guys…love…me?_

OF COURSE, Cerberus 3 said. _DO YOU REALLY THINK WE'D BE HERE IF WE DIDN'T?_

Irvine's throat tightened with emotion. _I never knew…I love you all too._

OH HYNE, Cerberus 2 moaned, _DON'T GO GETTING ALL MAUDLIN NOW!_

Smiling at the GF's mock-anger, Irvine went upstairs to pack for his trip.

__

When this is all over, Vonnie, I promise I'll come find you.

After throwing a few changes of clothing into his pack, Irvine's gaze once again fell on the snapshot of Siobhan and himself. Without thinking, he picked up the picture and slipped it into his pack.

__

Wherever you've gone, I'll find you…I'll bring you back home…I promise.

**********

****

A/N: Well…the semblance of a plot finally rears its ugly head. Heh…isn't Squall a jerk in this fic? He's always such a boyscout in everyone else's fics--I just thought I'd make him an asshole for a change. Hmmm…I wonder who the traitor that Squall mentioned is? 

Well…please leave a review--just to let me know that someone out there's reading this. Pathetic request, I know. I just have this neurotic need to know that there's an audience for this fic--even if it's a hostile one! :D.


	5. Chapter Five

A/N:  Sort of a short chapter, as it turns out… 

To Voice in the Wind:  Heheh…don't judge ANY character's heroism or villainy  too quickly in this fic!  Nothing and no one is quite what you might expect.

Fox and Hound

**Chapter 5**

ODINE RESEARCH CENTER FOR MAGICAL STUDIES 

**REPORT 63592**

**SORCERESSES AND SORCERESS ABILITIES**

**SECURITY LEVEL:  5**

Recent research has discovered many fallacies in previous hypotheses about sorceresses and their abilities.

Although it was previously believed that only one sorceress existed at a time, it has now been determined that the population of sorceresses is much larger.  Although exact numbers are unavailable, over two hundred cases have been verified to date.

Another recent discovery concerns the origins and passing on of power.  It was previously believed that all sorceresses received their powers from another sorceress as she died.  This has proven to be only partly true.  While it has been determined that many subjects have received their powers in this fashion, by far the greater majority are born with their powers.  Of the 200 subjects studied, only 75 initially received their powers from another sorceress.

Those individuals who were born with the ability appear to have inherited their powers from their mothers.  This has led to speculation regarding the existence of a "sorceress gene."  The S-Gene, if it exists, appears to be recessive as many of the subjects studied had given birth to non-gifted daughters.  It is also speculated that the S-Gene is sex-related—passed on along the female line only.  There are no known males possessing the ability.

More research is required to determine if the S-Gene exists, and, if so, if it can be spliced to genetic material containing Y-chromosomes.

It has also been determined that the subjects cannot die until they have passed along their powers to another sorceress or potential sorceress.  A test group of fifty individuals was exposed to a lethal dose of radiation and kept in isolation for two weeks.  The subject were, as suspected, unable to die before a suitable recipient for their power was allowed in their vicinity.  It was observed  that, in order to pass on their abilities, the subject must be in direct contact with the recipient.

Irvine closed the folder in disgust.

_Hyne…I always knew that bastard Odine was crazy…but this…research…it's obscene!_

With its talk of "specimens" and "subjects,"  the report attempted to gloss over the fact that it was really talking about people—about women.  Fifty women had died merely to satisfy a madman's curiousity.

_But they were just sorceresses, after all,_ Siobhan's voice taunted him.  _And they're the enemy, right?  So what does it matter?  After all, you've killed a few sorceresses yourself, haven't you, Cowboy?_

There was a big difference between taking out someone in battle—particularly when they were trying to take _you_ out as well—and what Odine had done to his victims.

_Oh really?  _Siobhan's voice queried.  _And what about your mission?  How is killing ShadowFox any different from Odine's experiments?_

_ShadowFox is a terrorist,_ the marksman argued.  _She's killed a lot of people herself.  She and her sisterhood are dangerous—they've gotta be stopped._

His lover's laughter echoed in his head.  _Keep telling yourself that, if it gives you comfort.  Maybe it'll help you sleep at night…_

The sniper closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.  He'd never been good at working out problems of ethics.  Duty and morality always seemed to be at odds—which was one of the reasons he had resigned from SeeD.  He hadn't been able to handle murdering people who'd never done him any harm—just because they were in someone else's way.

So…why the fuck was he here on this damn train?  Why had he ruined things with Vonnie to do something that he no longer believed in?  Irvine shook his head in confusion.  He didn't understand himself.  Hell, he didn't understand anything.

_SO, WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO NOW?_ Diablos queried.  _ARE YOU STILL GOING THROUGH WITH YOUR MISSION?_

Irvine sighed wearily.  _I don't know._

The sniper absently picked up the folder and began leafing through it again.

THE SORCERESS-KNIGHT BOND 

Little is know about this aspect of the sorceress ability.  Captive subjects were quite uncooperative when questioned on the subject.  Observations of the subjects suggest that the sorceress and knight share a mental link, but dissection of the subjects' brains revealed nothing unusual in their composition.

Most of what is known, or suspected, about the bond is derived from observation of Seifer Almasy during the Second Sorceress War.  The bond appears to enhance both physical and para-magical abilities of the recipient.  In addition, it is suspected that there may be an element of mind-control involved.  This hypothesis has remained unverified as Almasy went into hiding after Ultimecia's defeat and remains at large.

In the subjects available for study, little evidence of mind-control has been found.  The knights examined appear to have accepted the bond willingly.  It appears to be irrevocable and for the life of both subjects.  Upon the death of the sorceress, the bereaved knight shows symptoms of extreme disorientation and agitation, ultimately resulting in the subject's loss of sanity.

Sorceresses whose knights were killed displayed similar symptoms:  lethargy, depression, anxiety, and dementia.  

Again, Irvine slammed the folder shut, sickened by what he'd read.  He couldn't believe that this sort of "research" had been sanctioned by the Estharian government.  Hell, he _knew_ Laguna.  He'd never seemed to be the cold-blooded type.

_Why not?_ Siobhan's voice, which seemed to have taken over as his conscience, asked.  _He's fought against sorceresses too.  They're just…things…to him.  Not even people at all.  No…Loire would have no love for sorceresses, would he?_

Shit.  Irvine had little love for them either, but that didn't mean it was okay to experiment on them like lab rats.

_I can't do this,_ he thought.  _I don't care if ShadowFox takes over the whole fucking world and turns the Gardens into bingo parlors—I.  CAN'T.  FUCKING.  DO.  THIS!_

_SO WHAT ARE **YOU GOING TO DO? **_Cerberus 1 asked.

_Find Vonnie, _ he answered.  _I'm gonna find her, and beg her to take me back—on my knees, if necessary._

_BUT YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW WHERE TO LOOK,_ Diablos protested.

_Of course I do, _Irvine replied.  _There's only one place Vonnie would go—Deling City.  To Jared._  A bitter pang stabbed through him at the thought. In times of trouble, Siobhan always turned to Jared—not Irvine.  Just another example of how little she trusted him.

Of course, he hadn't given her much reason to trust him lately—but that was about to change.  He still wasn't sure what it was about his mission that had caused her to leave, but he would find her and spend the rest of his life making her happy, taking care of her, showing her that she could depend on him.

_YES,_ Diablos chuckled, _THE HUNTRESS ALWAYS SEEMED SO HELPLESS._

_ABSOLUTELY, _Cerberus 2 agreed, _SHE CERTAINLY NEEDS A BIG, DIM-WITTED COWBOY TO 'TAKE CARE OF HER'._

The sniper grinned at his GF's good-natured abuse.  _That's right, _ he agreed, _and I'm just the big, dimwitted cowboy for the job!_

At last, the train pulled into the Esthar station.  Irvine had already engaged Diablos's Encounter None ability, and he exited the train.  The sniper immediately spotted Kiros waiting for him on the platform.  Irvine turned and headed off in the opposite direction.

**A/N Part II:**   Not much really went on in this chapter…just the report and Irvine's resulting argument with himself…Sorry about that.  There was more to this chapter, but the next section needs some punching up, so I decided to end here for now.   I'll warn you now… There's some REALLY weird shit coming up in the next installment (at least, I think it's weird)

Thanks to all my loyal reviewers.  I really like to hear y'all's feedback—keep it coming!


	6. Chapter Six

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A/N: Fair warning--this is kind of a weird chapter. Revolving POVs, schizophrenic mood swings--humor to fluff to squickiness/gallows humor--chauffeur abuse, non-smoker abuse, Irvine actually gets pissed (twice), and a major character goes into convulsions. Hey! Something for everyone! Bring the kids! 

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Fox and Hound

Chapter 5

For a normally reticent man, Squall Leonheart gave voice to an impressive string of obscenities as he slammed the phone receiver back into the cradle. 

Startled, Zell gave the commander a puzzled look. "S'matter, Squall?"

Turning to his associate, the gunblade warrior informed him, "That was Kiros. Kinneas didn't show."

"The hell?!"

Squall nodded, grimacing. "You heard me," he said. "The bastard pulled out--disappeared without a fucking trace."

The tattooed martial artist frowned worriedly. "Any chance one of the Sisterhood could've taken him? Maybe they found out about the assassination--"

"No," the commander said, shaking his head. "Kiros found an envelope in the SeeD compartment. It contained his advance for the job."

Frowning, Zell pondered this information for a moment. "How could he have gotten past Kiros?"

"Encounter None," Squall said sourly, "The son of a bitch must still have a GF--that's the only way he could've done it."

"But why?" Zell wondered, "Why would he suddenly back out like that?"

"Who know why Kinneas does anything?" Squall said, shrugging. "He probably met some slut and decided that getting laid was more important than fulfilling his contract."

The tattooed blond shook his head dubiously. "That doesn't sound like Irvine--I mean, I never liked the guy, but he was always totally professional on missions. Like, I never even saw him _look_ at a girl when he was on the hunt--"

"Whatever," Squall said, interrupting Zell's reminiscence. "We'll worry about Kinneas later. Right now, I want you to go to Deling City and head up the assault on the Sisterhood."

"What about ShadowFox?" Zell inquired. "Shouldn't we send someone else to take Irvine's place?"

The commander ran a gloved hand through his hair--making it look even more unruly than usual. "There's no time, " he said, "No time to get anyone else in position. The Fox is due to make her attempt on the Junction Ellone device tomorrow night. Kiros will just have to handle things in Esthar." The SeeD gave a short bark of laughter, "He's more reliable--not to mention more stable--than Kinneas, anyway, so we're probably better off."

Zell shrugged. If that was the case, why had Squall even bothered with Irvine in the first place? Oh well…none of his business. He wasn't paid to think, but to kick whatever asses needed kicking. "Can I take the 'Rok?" was all he said.

Squall nodded an affirmation. "Get Nida to pilot--not Selphie," he added.

The martial artist did a double-take. "Nida? But Selphie always--"

"Are you in the habit of questioning orders?" Squall asked quietly, a dangerous glint suddenly appearing in the steel blue eyes.

Zell gave his commander a sharp salute. "No _sir_!" he said, a hint of anger sharpening his voice. Turning on his heel, he stormed out of Squall's office without waiting to be dismissed.

The SeeD commander watched the angry blonde leave. He hated pulling rank, but he didn't feel like explaining himself--he wasn't even sure he _could _explain himself. He was operating on gut-instinct and intuition at the moment, and something told him that it would be a really _bad_ idea to send the only untainted woman in his circle into an area where literally dozens of sorceresses would be dying--and in need of a recipient for their powers. Not that he questioned Selphie's loyalties…but then, he hadn't questioned Rinoa's either--and look at what had happened there. No. It was always better to err on the side of discretion.

__

And Kinneas…what do I do about him? Squall had promised to kill the sniper if he fucked up this mission--well, backing out entirely could certainly qualify as fucking up. But how to find the little shit? Ah…_there_ was the problem. The commander doubted that even Kinneas would be stupid enough to return to his home in Trabia--however, there might be a clue there as to where he might have gone. Yes…a trip to Trabia was _definitely _in order.

__

Kinneas, you stupid fuck, when I get through with you, you'll be begging me to kill you.

****

********************

"Kane residence." The unmistakable monotone of Finn, Jared's bodyguard/chauffeur, reached Irvine through the receiver of the pay phone.

"Finn!" the sniper greeted him, "S'Irvine. Um…Is Vonnie there? Can I talk to her? Please?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Kinneas, Miss Siobhan isn't here," the chauffeur replied with all the warmth of an answering machine. "Was she coming out to visit Mr. Kane?"

"Cut the crap, Finn," Irvine growled. "I know damn well she's there. She always goes to Jared when there's trouble--"

"Is Miss Siobhan in trouble, sir?" Finn asked with the same amount of concern that he'd use to inquire about the weather.

"Dammit Finn! You _know_ she is!" the sniper exclaimed. "Now _please_ stop playin' the faithful family retainer and let me talk to her, for Hyne's sake!"

"I assure you, Mr. Kinneas, we've neither seen nor heard from Miss Siobhan. We weren't even aware that she was coming down."

This conversation was going nowhere. Fast. Giving up on getting his lover on the phone--for the moment--Irvine tried a new tactic.

"Let me talk to Jared, then," he said with a weary sigh.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Kinneas, but Mr. Kane is in Centra on business for the museum."

"GODDAMMIT FINN!" the sniper shrieked in frustration, "THAT'S BULLSHIT, AND YOU KNOW IT!" Jared never went anywhere without Finn. Irvine knew it, Finn knew it--hell, _everyone_ knew it.

"There's no reason to raise your voice, sir," the chauffeur said in his normal deadpan manner. "I'll be glad to relay any message to Mr. Kane when he returns."

"And when would that be?" the sniper asked, his voice dripping with venom.

"In about two weeks, sir," came the serene reply.

"Finn?" Irvine said after a brief pause.

"Yes, Mr. Kinneas?"

"GO FUCK YOURSELF!" Irvine screamed into the phone before slamming the receiver into the cradle with all the force his rage could muster. The sniper allowed himself a tight smile. "Hope your ears ring for a week, you stubborn bastard," he muttered.

Shouldering his duffel and picking up his guncase, the sniper headed towards the ticket counter. He purchased a ticket to Deling City, paying cash, even though it nearly cleaned him out. Irvine knew that when Kiros reported back to Squall, the commander was going to be extremely pissed over the sniper's sudden change of mind, and therefore, leaving as little of a paper trail behind him as possible definitely seemed like the prudent thing to do.

Once on board the train, the sniper stowed his gear and settled into a seat by a window. As the train began to chug out of the station, Irvine reached into a pocket of his duster, fished out the half-empty packet of Siobhan's cigarettes, lit one, and exhaled a thick cloud of spiced smoke.

"Hey, buddy," an irate voice called from across the aisle. "D'you have to smoke that thing in here?"

"Yeah," the gunman replied, not bothering to look at the miffed non-smoker, "I do." The gunslinger took another deep drag from the cigarette, spewing out a heavy cloud of smoke that hung over his head like a raincloud.

"Put it out, asshole," the voice said angrily, "Or I'll come over there and do it for you."

If there was one thing Irvine hated, it was self-righteous non-smokers. Vonnie was right, it was high time that smokers took at least part of the world back for themselves. Looking across the aisle, Irvine met the gaze of a skinny-assed middle-aged guy with a crew cut and a _very_ red face. Some sort of businessman, judging from the briefcase that leaned against his legs like a pet dog.

Tilting his head to one side, the sniper gazed at his adversary through slitted eyes. A slight smile curved the corners of his lips.

"Try it," he said pleasantly, "and I'll rip your damn arms off and beat ya to death with 'em…_buddy._" The slight smile slowly broadened into a feral grin.

The businessman's eyes widened, and he suddenly became extremely interested in gazing at the scenery passing outside his window.

Oddly depressed by his victory, Irvine settled back into his seat, forcing himself to finish his smoke and resisting the urge to apologize to the man. There was no joy in intimidating the weak--it was like something Seifer would do.

__

Find Seifer, and you'll probably find ShadowFox.

Well…that wasn't his problem any more. ShadowFox and her knight could live a long and happy life…settle down in a whitewashed cottage with a picket fence, have 2.5 kids and a fucking dog for all he cared. All Irvine cared about now was making peace with Vonnie and spending…oh, the next three or four months making love to her.

__

WE CAN ONLY PROVIDE YOU WITH SO MUCH STAMINA, YOU KNOW, Diablos protested.

__

REALLY! Cerberus 3 agreed. _THREE OR FOUR MONTHS IS A LITTLE…EXCESSIVE…DON'T YOU THINK?_

Well, you'll just have to do the best you can guys, Irvine told them, smothering a grin. Pulling his hat down low over his eyes, the sniper drifted off into dreams of stormy grey eyes, silky ivory skin, and mahogany hair scented with jasmine.

****

********************

Siobhan could hear Irvine's angry sign-off and the slam of the receiver from the other side of the room. She winced in sympathy for the chauffeur as Finn turned to her with a wounded look.

"I did _not_ enjoy that, Miss Siobhan," he said severely.

"Sorry, Finn," the sorceress apologized meekly. "I didn't think he'd get that angry." The sweet-natured cowboy almost never got angry--and he held the ever-inscrutable Finn in such awe that she was genuinely surprised that Irvine had gone off on him in the way he had.

__

HE WANTS YOU BACK, LITTLE ONE, Drake rumbled, _HE'S NOT GOING TO GIVE UP SO EASILY._

Don't I know it. Damn the man. Why'd he have to be so stubborn? Why couldn't he just stay the hell out of this? She'd thought that he would be safely on his snipe hunt in Esthar by now--waiting for a quarry who wasn't going to show--but apparently, something had caused a change in her lover's plans. But what?

__

PERHAPS HE KNOWS NOW? Drake suggested.

Possibly. But Siobhan didn't think he could have pieced everything together quite so soon.

"Would you like for me to pass a message on to Mr. Kinneas the next time he calls?" Finn inquired, breaking into Siobhan's ruminations. "Or am I to continue to deny your presence and thus be subjected to more abuse?"

The sorceress smothered a smile. Poor Finn…he must really be nettled over Irvine's angry remarks to make even that mild complaint.

"He won't waste time calling again," Siobhan answered. "If I know my Cowboy, he's on his way here, even as we speak."

The chauffeur lifted one dark eyebrow--an almost unbelievable show of emotion for him. "And what do we do about that?"

The redhead shrugged. "How the hell should I know?" she asked waspishly. "Go get Jared and the others--maybe they'll have an idea. I'm fresh out."

After the study door closed behind the chauffeur, Siobhan sank wearily down onto an overstuffed leather sofa, resting her forehead on the cool upholstery of the arm. A cold, wet nose shoved itself against her hand, and the sorceress reached out blindly, burying her fingers in a thick ruff of fur.

Fuzzy images filled her mind: Irvine, surrounded by trees in their autumn finery, Exeter slung casually over one shoulder, a half-grown grey wolf capering joyfully at his side; a hand wearing fingerless gloves slipping morsels of food under the table to an always hungry mouth; the same hand giving a tummy rub to an ecstatically thrashing, furry body; and finally, the bedroom of the house in Trabia, two sleeping figures whose clasped hands rested on the back of a third, smaller and shaggier form that lay between them. Along with the images came the mood that Siobhan always interpreted as "wistful longing"--the same mood that usually accompanied the image of an empty food dish.

Sliding onto the floor, the sorceress wrapped her arms around the great wolf, burying her face in the soft ruff of fur that smelled of mountain air and pine needles.

"I know, Fur-face," she murmured, "I miss him too."

Another, clearer, image was thrust into her mind--this one with the "I want" mood emphatically attached: a family portrait, Irvine, Siobhan and Mistral at the sorceress's "thinking spot." The gunman pulling Siobhan close to steal a kiss while the wolf licked first one beloved face, then the other, until the lovers parted, laughing, to roughhouse and wrestle with their playmate.

"I want that too, Mis," Siobhan said sadly, "but it's not going to happen, love." She sent her own image to the wolf: Herself, glowing with a golden aura, a pair of titian-colored wings extending from her shoulders: Irvine, looking at her, an expression of horror and disgust etched clearly upon his face; the sniper turning his back and walking away.

"See, fella? There's no way."

Another image: the same as before, Siobhan in sorceress mode, but the gunman's violet gaze glowed with love and desire. Reaching out with one hand, he reverently stroked the russet wings before enfolding the sorceress in an embrace that was both tender and protective.

The sorceress smiled against her shaggy comrade's fur. "Wishful thinking, boy," she scoffed. "Besides, you're forgetting something--"

She projected the image of a black-garbed figure, hooded and masked, poised in a fighting stance. Irvine approached the figure, shouldered Exeter, and fired. The masked figure crumpled and fell silently to the ground. A shrill whistle sliced through the air, the sniper turned and walked slowly toward another figure clad in black--a man with a scarred face. The second man clipped a leash to the barbed collar around the sniper's throat and led him away.

Siobhan cradled the wolf's head between her hands. "Give me a happy ending _there_, if you can," she challenged.

Mistral looked up at her mournfully, his moon-silver eyes gazing into her own. No new image came to replace the tragic tableau of the sorceress's projection.

"Didn't think so," she said bitterly, idly scratching the wolf behind the ears.

The room suddenly went red, and Siobhan felt s if she were drowning in blood. The coppery stench of it was all around her; the salty taste of it coated her tongue and lips. So much blood…dripping in slow rivers from her fingertips…

__

HERE ISSS YOURRR HAPPY ENDING, a voice hissed in her ear. _LOOK…_ A corpse-white hand, fingers tipped by cruel, black claws pointed straight ahead.

Siobhan's gaze followed the pointing claw and discerned a crumpled, red-stained figure sprawled on the ground ahead of her. Only dimly aware of Mistral's frantic barking somewhere in the background, the sorceress waded through the blood covering the expanse of floor between herself and the motionless figure.

A man in blood-stained buckskins lay at her feet. Long auburn hair, soaked in crimson, was plastered over his face. A tattered black Stetson rested on the floor a few inches away.

"No," Siobhan said flatly, her voice firm with denial.

__

YESSS! the voice of the Other exulted.

Kneeling next to the still figure, Siobhan smoothed the blood-soaked hair away from the face. Amethyst eyes, glazed over with death, glared up at her in silent accusation. The full lips that had caressed her own so many times, gaped in a grimace of terror and pain. The throat and neck, formerly a playground for nuzzling and nibbling, was now a shredded ruin of blood and gristle. She was vaguely aware that other wounds ripped through the chest and abdomen, but she didn't look any further. She'd seen enough.

Calm despair settled over the sorceress like a layer of ice. She gazed at the dead man, feeling curiously detached.

__

How odd, she thought, _Shouldn't I feel something? Shouldn't I be sad? Angry? Hysterical? SOMETHING?_ She felt nothing, however--just an odd, detached, numbness.

__

I wish whoever's screaming would shut the fuck up--it's enough to wake the dead. She peered down at the dead man on the floor--who remained unmoved by the caterwauling. OK…maybe not…but all that damn noise was giving _her_ a migraine. The incessant barking wasn't helping, either.

"Siobhan!" a voice called to her from a great distance.

She looked in surprise at the dead man. Surely _he_ hadn't called her name…She stifled a giggle at the thought. No…her friend here wasn't going to call her or anyone else…he had a bitch kitty of a sore throat.

A sharp, stinging blow caught her on one side of the face, rocking her head to the side.

__

What the hell? Why don't they slap whoever's doing all that screaming? She thought. Then she noticed that the screaming had cut off abruptly the moment that she had been struck.

Siobhan glared up at her assailant. Jade green eyes separated by a diagonal scar burned into her own. "Seif?" she said, confused, "What the fuck?" She looked down at the floor, but the dead man and the blood were gone.

__

THE ENDING FOR ALL TRAITORSSS, the voice hissed. _IF THE COWBOY COMESSS…HE ISSS MINE!_

Aww…fuck this…fuck this right in the ear! she thought as a leather sheathed hand gripped her own, pulling her to her feet. Siobhan swayed unsteadily for a moment, fighting the Other for control, before collapsing to the floor again, her arms and legs flailing wildly, refusing her repeated commands to support her.

A veritable jewelbox of eyes gazed worriedly down at her: jade, ruby, sapphire, jet, tiger's eye, onyx, moonstone…but no amethyst. Why the hell were all these stones staring at her? She decided she didn't really care when a hard-edged something crashed into her wrist.

__

Fuck, that HURT!

"Shit!" Jade swore softly, gazing wildly around the room. "Finn, get Jared out of here. He doesn't need to see this." Onyx led Sapphire out of the study, and Jade grabbed something off the floor. A moment later, Siobhan's jaws were wrenched open, and something hard and cylindrical…and tasting of leather…was jammed between her teeth.

"Sorry, kiddo," Jade apologized, "best I could do on short notice." A slender arm came out of nowhere, smashing into Jade. 

__

Heh…

Siobhan felt her wrists gripped by strong, gloved hands and pinned firmly at her side. 

"Someone get her legs!" Jade shouted, "she's kicking the shit out of me!"

Jet disappeared, and after a moment, strong hands grasped her ankles, stilling her wildly thrashing legs. Siobhan's back decided to arch at an almost impossible angle, the vertebrae cracking loudly in protest.

"If either of you ladies have any healing spells junctioned, "Jade said calmly, "Now would be an outstanding time to FUCKING USE THEM!"

Ruby and Tiger's Eye started at Jade's shouting, but moved closer, hovering mere inches above Siobhan. Her eyes rolled back into her head as a wave of darkness crashed over her. The sorceress drowned in the void and knew no more.

****

********************

A/N: When the hell did I lose control of this fic? I swear, NONE of this was in the original game plan. After weeks of silence, my muses suddenly got very chatty and began throwing all this shit at me--and all I could do was tread water and take dictation (and mix a few metaphors). Does this sort of thing happen to anyone else?

Well…you guys know the drill by now…read & review. I live for feedback.


	7. Chapter Seven

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Disclaimer: Just to warn any readers of the squeamish persuasion…this chapter begins with a somewhat citrusy dream. Not really a lemon…more of a tangerine…maybe a cumquat. And it takes a turn into the decidedly…weird. So, you've been warned.

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Fox and Hound

Chapter Seven

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Autumn in Trabia…beautiful as always. Trabian autumns were REAL autumns--not like in Galbadia. Back home, everything just seemed to dry up and turn brown--there wasn't even a break from the hellish heat. But in Trabia, the hills around home seemed to burn as flame-colored foliage transformed the trees into torches.

Irvine strolled through the woods that surrounded his--well, Vonnie's, actually--home, enjoying the feel of the crisp autumn wind against his skin. Exeter slung casually over his shoulder, the marksman made a leisurely patrol of the area--not many monsters in these parts, but you could never be too careful. This morning, however, not so much as a bitebug disturbed the tranquility of the countryside.

Vonnie had taken Mistral out for a ramble earlier, and the pair would probably end up at what Irvine called "Vonnie's thinkin' spot"--a small meadow clearing on the hill overlooking the house they shared. His lover often climbed up there when she felt the need for solitude--but Irvine was always welcome, as well. Whatever she sought to escape by making the climb, it wasn't him--for which he was eternally grateful.

The marksman turned onto the little footpath that led up the hillside, planning to meet his love and her four-footed companion. Before he even made it to the clearing, Irvine could hear Mistral's excited barks and yips and the silver trill of Siobhan's laughter. Upon entering the clearing, Irvine broke into a smile as well at the sight that met his eyes.

Siobhan--battle-hardened huntress, trash-talking wench, and all-around tough cookie--raced madly around the clearing as if a torama (instead of a 150 pound puppy in a wolf suit) was on her tail. The redhead suddenly dashed off to the side of the clearing and dove headlong into a pile of leaves. Red, yellow, orange, and umber foliage erupted into the air, followed by Mistral as the wolf launched himself skyward, snapping at the flying leaves. From her nest, Siobhan threw handfuls of leaves into the air for the wolf to catch.

Grinning, the sniper broke into a run, heading towards the leafpile. Dropping Exeter lightly to the ground, Irvine performed a spectacular belly-flop, landing partially on top of his startled lover. Rolling onto his side, the cowboy propped his head on one arm and gave Siobhan a mischievous grin.

"Stupid weatherman didn't say nothing about it raining over-sexed cowboys," Siobhan muttered, throwing a handful of leaves at Irvine.

"Or 'bout findin' willin' redheads in leaf piles," Irvine drawled, reaching out to tuck a brilliant yellow leaf in the mahogany mane.

"An' who sez ah'm willin?" Siobhan challenged, mimicking her lover's Galbadian accent, the barest hint of a smile playing about the corners of her mouth.

"Me, that's who," Irvine growled, pulling the huntress to him for a searing kiss. Apparently, his assessment was correct because slender hands impatiently pushed his coat from his shoulders, nimble fingers unzipped his vest, splayed over his bare chest.

Clothes shed away like water, leaving behind only warm, bare skin. Soft sighs and murmurings and the crackle of dried leaves were the only sounds audible in the clearing. The scent of jasmine and cloves vied with the sharp tang of the autumn air. Arms and legs tangled in a lovers' knot, tying the pair together with bonds of mutual passion.

Irvine pulled Siobhan into his lap, his breath hitching in his chest as he slipped into her warmth. Long slender legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him in deeper. His eyes slid closed as velvet lips burned against his own. Breathing his lover's name like a prayer, Irvine clasped Siobhan close, rocking into her gently, soaring aloft on currents of pleasure and desire.

Long fingers suddenly tangled in his hair, yanking his head back roughly. Irvine's eyes flew open in surprise, and the sniper found himself confronting a nightmare.

A hideous parody of his lover's face leered down at him. Siobhan's rich ivory skin had bleached to a sickly corpse-white. Twin black lightning bolts slashed down her face from the forehead to the corners of plum-black lips that writhed back in a snarl, revealing a set of glistening white fangs. A black, forked tongue flickered obscenely at him.

"TRAITORRR!" _the Siobhan-thing hissed at him, her eyes burning like white-hot embers within the depths of the black markings that streaked down her face. Irvine didn't even have time to give voice to the scream building inside him before the creature's head whipped forward, sharp fangs ripping into the soft flesh of his exposed throat_. _The world disappeared in a cloud of mahogany hair and the spray of his own blood._

Irvine jolted awake, biting back a sharp cry as awareness of his surroundings came back to him.

__

Tisiphone…ah, FUCK!

Had Irvine lived anything even remotely resembling a normal life, he would probably have dismissed his dream as nothing more than an ordinary nightmare--frightening, disturbing, but ultimately meaningless. However, the sniper had _not_ lived an ordinary life, and the three months he'd spent being thrust willy-nilly into the past, courtesy of Ellone, had given him a respect for dreams that he might not have possessed otherwise.

__

Is that bitch awake again? Is that why you left me, Vonnie? Is that what you're scared of?

Rogue GF, demon, monster, evil spirit…Irvine didn't know exactly _what_ Tisiphone was. Neither did Vonnie. Neither did Jared--and it was _his_ fault that Siobhan had been saddled with the damn thing in the first place.

__

THAT'S NOT EXACTLY FAIR, Diablos gently rebuked the sniper. _KANE WOULD NEVER KNOWINGLY PLACE SIOBHAN IN DANGER_.

It was true, of course, but that knowledge did nothing to stem Irvine's resentment against his lover's adoptive father. The man was an archeologist, a scholar; he should have been more prepared--he should have known what he was sending Vonnie into. He should have taken better care of his daughter.

__

An' what about you, Kinneas ol' pal? You didn't do much better…

That was true as well. The cowboy had been able to do nothing but hold his lover and desperately shout for help, as Siobhan convulsed and thrashed madly in his arms, vainly trying to fight off the force that was inexorably invading her.

********************

"Look at these rocks, Irv. Look at how they make everything…sparkle."

Siobhan stood before him, gazing around the cave in wonder. Smiling, she waved a hand through the air. Irvine gazed at his lover, entranced; as blue sparks shimmered in the wake of the slender arm as it moved through space.

"Let's get a sample of this for the geologists," she said, retrieving a small pick and a sample bag from her pack. "I'll bet they've never seen anything like this before."

As Siobhan approached the cave wall, the stones began to glow a brighter blue. Irvine had the unsettling idea that the color looked somehow…hungry.

"Vonnie," he said nervously, "maybe you should wait for the rest of the team--they're the professionals after all, darlin'."

The redhead snorted in derision. "I think I've been on enough digs to take a simple rock sample without starting a cave-in," she laughed.

But it wasn't the possibility of a cave-in that worried Irvine. It was the evil-looking glow emitted by the cave wall--and the way that the stones seemed to burn brighter as his lover drew closer.

Sparks trailed after Siobhan like a comet's tail as she turned and reached out a hand…the stones' glow intensified.

"No!" Irvine shouted, "Don't touch it, Vonnie!"

Too late. A bolt of bright light shot from the stone and into Siobhan's outstretched hand. The lithe body stiffened; mouth and eyes widened into perfect Os of shock. The sniper was already moving, running towards his lover to drag her out of harm's way.

The sudden cessation of the bolt sent Siobhan reeling backwards toward Irvine. The redhead slammed into him with enough force to send them both crashing to the ground. The cowboy didn't even attempt to regain his footing, but instead scooted towards the cave's mouth, long legs pistoning, bootheels digging into the ground, dragging the unconscious Siobhan with him.

After a seeming eternity, Irvine's frantic shouts brought half the dig running. Including Jared.

"What the hell happened?" the archeologist cried, his eyes dark with worry as he gazed at his stricken daughter.

Irvine explained, and then the two men spent the next five minutes blaming each other. The argument grew more heated, and the two might have come to blows if Finn hadn't defused the situation by suggesting that they should postpone their fight until after they had attended to the unconscious woman. Shamed by the chauffeur's rebuke, Irvine and Jared cooperated long enough for them to get Siobhan into an ATV and head back to camp. Irvine had argued that she should be taken to a hospital, but Jared firmly vetoed that idea, sparking another heated argument between the two. The cowboy had never quite forgiven the archeologist for further endangering Vonnie by failing to get any sort of medical care for her. Fortunately, the huntress had come around shortly after they returned to camp.

Upon returning to consciousness, Siobhan tried to explain what had happened--how… something…had reached out to her as she reached out to take the sample. And how that something had burrowed into her mind, making itself at home.

"Like junctioning a GF," she'd said, "except it was more like the damn thing had junctioned _me_." Siobhan had tried to unjunction it; Irvine had tried to draw it, to see if he could somehow get rid of it, but the bitch refused to budge. Its name was Tisiphone, it had terminal PMS, and it really, REALLY, didn't like Irvine.

The next day, Jared sent a team out to examine the cave. They found that each of the glowing stones contained a life-form--probably similar to the thing that had attacked Siobhan. Irvine had listened in disgust as Jared began planning an excavation of the cave.

"You're just gonna release those things?" he asked incredulously. "Dammit to hell, Jared, one of those things damn near killed your daughter--"

"Please Irv--" Vonnie murmured, giving the marksman's shoulder a comforting squeeze, "I'm all right--"

But Irvine refused to be placated. "No thanks to _Dad_!" he said angrily, folding his arms over his chest and glaring at the older man.

"Of course I'm not going to release them," Jared said, pacing back and forth across the tent. "And I'm perfectly aware of the seriousness of what happened to Siobhan, but--"

"But nothing!" the marksman exploded, leaping to his feet and rounding furiously on the archeologist. "Those things should be fucking nuked, and you know it!"

"Destroy what could possibly be the most important discovery in Centran studies to come along in over fifty years?" Jared asked. "Absolutely not." He gave Irvine a superior look, "I wouldn't expect someone like you to understand."

A flush of anger spread over the sniper's cheeks. Jared had never made a secret of the fact that he had hoped that his daughter would make a better choice in life partners than Irvine--a drifter who'd never even finished school.

Clenching his fists, Irvine would probably have taken a swing at the archeologist if Siobhan hadn't suddenly interposed herself between the two men.

"Stop it!" she snapped, glaring at each in turn, her eyes dark as thunderclouds, preparing to cloud up and rain over them both. "Both of you, just shut up! I'm tired of watching the two of you go at each other like a pair of fucking tomcats!" With a flick of her long titian braid, Siobhan turned and stormed out of the tent.

With a final glare at Jared, Irvine followed Siobhan out of the tent, hoping to make peace with her. Bad idea. He should have given her more time to cool off, because the redhead merely sailed into him all over again. After his lover had finished yelling at him, the sniper simply nodded, hooked his thumbs in his beltloops, and walked away, shoulders slumped in dejection. A moment later, two slender arms wrapped around his waist, embracing him from behind.

"I love you, Cowboy," Siobhan assured him, giving his neck a nuzzle that sent an electric tingle coursing down his spine. "But stop being an asshole, okay? And _try_ to get along with Jared? I can't stand you two always being at each others' throats." Dropping a warm kiss onto the back of his neck, Siobhan reached up, yanked Irvine's hat down over his face, and stepped back, releasing him. When he turned to face her, the redhead was nowhere to be found.

"I hate it when you do that!" he called to the surrounding emptiness. The only reply he received was a throaty chuckle that floated to him across the still desert night.

If Vonnie had engaged Drake's Encounter None ability, she obviously wished for privacy. The knowledge that he was one of the things she was avoiding gave Irvine a slight pang, but he respected her wishes and didn't follow--even though he could plainly see the line of slim footprints etched into the desert floor. Besides, he had a little task to perform, himself.

Irvine crossed the camp stealthily, making his way to the supply tent. The sniper made his way past crates of shovels, picks, whisk brooms, and brushes to what he sought. Stuffing a small package of plastique, a detonator, and a timer into his coat pocket, the sniper left the tent and headed back to the cave.

****

********************

It had been eighteen months since the ill-fated Centra dig. Needless to say, the destruction of the cave had done nothing to improve the relationship between Irvine and Jared. As a result of his action, the sniper found himself aboard the next train home. Vonnie, Hyne bless her, had opted to return with him rather than remaining at the site with Jared. Of course, Irvine had been happy about _that_, but…fuck, it had been a _long_ ride back.

Siobhan herself seemed no worse for the wear--most of the time, at least. During the months that followed, Irvine would occasionally feel his lover's eyes on him. Upon meeting her gaze, the marksman often found flint-hard grey eyes glaring at him malevolently, his beloved's face twisted into a mask of fury and hatred, barely recognizable as that of the woman he loved. It would only last a moment, and then _his_ Vonnie would be back, not even aware that "the Other", as she called her unwanted hitchhiker, had momentarily taken over. That, more than anything else, terrified the marksman. Who the fuck knew what it would do if it ever seized control from its unwilling hostess? Fuck, it could do _anything_--leaving Vonnie to bear the consequences.

Despite its momentary awakenings, however, Tisiphone _had_ slept most of the time--but, if Irvine's dream meant anything, the bitch was wide awake now. And apparently, it wasn't too happy with him. The gunman had never been sure why the creature bore him such a grudge. Perhaps it hated him because he was one of the things keeping Vonnie grounded, or perhaps, it just hated everything. Whatever the reason for its hostility, if his dream could be trusted, Tisiphone felt that Irvine had betrayed Vonnie in some way. But how? Vonnie had been the one who walked out--not him. If anyone should feel betrayed, it was Irvine.

__

Could it have anything to do with that damn mission?

That _had_ to be it. According to her letter, it was the reason Vonnie had left him--but how was that a betrayal? His assignment had been to assassinate a sorceress and a terrorist--it had nothing whatsoever to do with his lover. Shit. The sniper could feel the answer taunting him, just out of reach.

Irvine shook his head and stared blankly out the darkened train window, futilely willing the train to proceed more quickly toward its destination. With a guilty glance across the aisle, he retrieved the pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket. The businessman had gone, either getting off at an earlier stop, or simply moving to another car--one that didn't contain a half-mad sniper. At any rate, Irvine was alone in the passenger car. Lighting his cigarette, he leaned back against his seat, wearily exhaling a thick plume of fragrant smoke. It was all too much for him to figure out. Hell, he'd never been much of a thinker anyway.

Seeking to distract his endlessly tail-chasing thoughts, Irvine absently reached for the report that rested on the seat beside him. Although he had turned his back on his assignment, he flipped idly through the folder, hoping to find a long, dry section that would lull him back to sleep.

As he leafed through the file, Irvine's attention was caught by the subject heading: ANIMAL COMMUNICATION/FAMILIARS.

__

Vonnie was always crazy about animals. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips at the thought. Propping the file open on his lap, Irvine began to read.

****

ANIMAL COMMUNICATION/FAMILIARS

This is one of the more common talents, possessed by 84.3% of the specimens examined. The subjects exhibited the ability to convey simple messages to animal allies by means of a mental link similar, but not identical to, the sorceress-knight bond. Although unwilling to discuss this ability, under interrogation, the subjects did reveal that communication with lesser species was accomplished through the mental projection of visual images. Apparently, communication may occur with domestic, feral, or wild species; however, each subject appears to have varying degrees of rapport with particular species. For example, subject #S7352J was best able to communicate with feline species such as house cats, tigers, toramas, etc., and had little rapport with other species. Other subjects exhibited other "specialties."

This talent has also been linked with the legend of the witch's familiar. Most of the subjects possessing this ability bonded with a common domestic species--most famously, cats--but other species were also used: dogs, birds, rodents. In some subjects, familiar-type bonds were made with wild species such as otters, leopards, or wolves.

Irvine blinked at the printed page lying so innocuously on his lap. Such an innocent looking object, yet it had just changed his entire reality.

****

********************

"Mistral…" Irvine mused, smiling slightly. "Why Mistral?"

Siobhan cuddled the small furry body against her chest. "Because when I look at him, I see snow-covered steppes, and I feel the sharpness of cold mountain winds." She laughed at the dramatic sound of her own words.

Irvine quirked an eyebrow dubiously at the orphaned wolf cub. "All that from this little guy?" he asked, scratching the cub behind the ears.

"Yeah," Vonnie said, grinning. "Besides, he _told_ me that was his name."

The gunman laughed and threw an arm around the redhead's shoulders as the couple walked back to the house with their new housemate.

****

********************

__

Very clever, Vonnie, he thought. _Clever of you to hide in plain sight like that._

Irvine mentally kicked himself for not putting the pieces together sooner. Fuck's sake, he'd lived with the woman for four years--how could he not have seen what she was? Either Vonnie was incredibly brilliant, or he was exceptionally stupid. Probably the latter.

The gunman leaned forward, propping his forehead on his hands. Weariness washed over him, followed almost immediately by rage. Irvine had never had much pride--he'd been the butt of Fate's perverse sense of humor for far too long to have any illusions along those lines. Perhaps that's why he was so fiercely protective of what little he did possess. And now, the woman he'd loved for nearly four years had ground _that_ into dust as well.

Clenching his hands into fists, the gunman knuckled his throbbing temples, grinding his teeth together to bite back the howl of fury and pain that he felt building up inside him. Four years…he'd loved Vonnie for nearly four years, and in all that time, he'd never really even known her. He'd abandoned his assignment, made himself into a fugitive, ruined his life--again--and all for a stranger…for a sorceress…an enemy.

The train slowed as it approached Deling Station, and a mechanical voice announced the estimated arrival time of ten minutes. Irvine numbly gathered his gear and prepared for debarking. His anger had by now mellowed into a deep depression. He'd traveled a long way--for nothing, as it turned out. There was no point in going to Jared's now; he didn't think he could forgive Vonnie for her deception--and she didn't seem to want him around any more anyway.

__

SO YOU'RE JUST GOING TO GIVE UP? Diablos asked impatiently. _YOU'RE NOT EVEN GOING TO HEAR HER SIDE?_

Why the fuck should I? What excuse could she possibly have for lying to me--for USING me for four fucking years?

PERHAPS A BETTER ONE THAN YOU KNOW, Cerberus 2 grumbled.

__

Did you know about this? The GFs' calm acceptance of Siobhan's true nature made Irvine suddenly suspicious.

__

WE…SUSPECTED, Cerberus 1 admitted, _BUT WE HAD NO REAL KNOWLEDGE. AND WE SENSED NO DANGER TO YOU--OTHERWISE WE WOULD HAVE WARNED YOU OF OUR SUSPICIONS._

YOU'VE COME ALL THIS WAY, Cerberus 3 added, _WHY TURN AWAY NOW? WHY NOT GO ON?_

Sighing wearily, Irvine collected his gear and strode toward the passenger car's exit.

__

Might as well, he thought bitterly, _It's not like I have anywhere else to go._

As Irvine stepped onto the darkened platform, mocking feminine laughter seemed to echo through his consciousness. Fate was, after all, a female--which was probably why She'd always given him so much trouble.

****

********************

A/N: Oy! Writing this chapter was like having root canal without anaesthetic. Particularly the last section--the cowboy was NOT being very cooperative. Plus, it seemed like his about-face on whether or not to confront Siobhan happened a bit too abruptly…oh well…[sigh].

A Voice in the Wind: You'll just have to keep reading to find out if Seifer is a hero or a villain, 'cos [nyah-nyah voice] I'm not gonna tell yooo! [nyah-nyah voice]. His POV will come up in the next chapter or so, though, so you won't be kept in suspense for _too_ long. Heh heh heh…

YuriNigasa: Thankees ever so for the kind words and for plugging my fic in your own very excellent "The Oath". I'm EXTREMELY flattered! [blushes, kicks an imaginary pebble]. ^___^

Ashi: I'm glad you like the humor inserts--seems like I just can't keep away from silliness entirely. After all, the other fic I'm working on is humor/parody--and I guess some of that just seeps through into this one. 

Irvine: [cough] Bi-polar! [cough]

Q: Pphhhttt! You're just mad because haven't gotten laid.

Irvine: Yeah…what the hell was up with that opening dream sequence? That scared the crap out of me!

Q: [rolls eyes] You'll live.


	8. Chapter Eight

****

Fox and Hound

Chapter Eight

"CONDITION?"

Fujin was perfectly capable of speaking normally, but in times of stress, she sometimes reverted to her old manner of speech. And this was definitely a time of stress.

Seifer shook his head, his brow furrowing in a scowl as he stubbed out his third cigarette in ten minutes. Frowning down at the unconscious woman on the sofa, he answered his long-time comrade.

"How the fuck should I know, Fu? This isn't exactly my area of expertise." His specialty was ass-kicking and smart-ass remarks--not healing.

The slim, silver-haired woman slipped a comforting arm around the blonde knight's shoulders. "Kane says she's been through this before and come out all right. Heartlilly seems to agree."

Seifer nodded mutely and gave Fujin a weak smile. Hyne, he hoped so. If anything happened to Siobhan, they were all pretty much fucked.

__

Come on, Red, wake up…open those eyes and look at me…tell me to go fuck myself…SOMETHING….

****

********************

"Hello tall, blonde and handsome. You look like you could use a friend."

Seifer shifted his gaze from his half-empty glass of cheap Trabian whisky to the barstool next to his. A tall redhead with large, storm-cloud grey eyes and a gamin's smile regarded him with amusement.

"Piss off, lady," he growled. "I'm not interested in female companionship." He turned his sullen glare back to his glass.

A throaty chuckle issued from the unknown quantity on the next stool. "Well, that's just fine, toots," she laughed, "because I'm not offering any--not the kind you mean, anyway."

Scowling, the ex-knight drained the remaining whisky from his glass before replying. "What the hell do you want then? I'm not exactly in the market for a friend."

The redhead rolled her eyes. "I know, I know," she said, her grey eyes sparkling with laughter, "the great Seifer Almasy, ex-sorceress's knight and professional asshole. Runs with scissors, doesn't play well with others, yadda, yadda, yadda."

So she knew who he was. Big deal. He could give a fuck.

The bartender approached and his companion ordered a bottle of absinthe. Quirking a russet eyebrow, she inquired, "And what are you drinking, hot shot?"

"Trabian whisky."

His companion's nose crinkled in distaste. "Chocobo piss," she scoffed, "bring him Galbadian--it's on me," she said, cutting of Seifer's protest that he couldn't afford the more expensive liquor.

The bartender poured their drinks and headed off to the other end of the bar to check on the other customers. Seifer sipped the whisky, enjoying the mellow warmth that caressed his tongue.

"It's been a while since I've had anything this good," he commented, "Thanks." What the hell, not many women voluntarily sought his company these days. And if this one was willing to keep plying him with expensive liquor…well, might as well be pleasant and see what she wanted.

The woman shrugged, "No problem." Pulling out a silver cigarette case, she plucked a slender cigarette from its interior and placed it between her lips. Glancing from side to side, she muttered a short string of unintelligible words, the only two of which he caught were "Draconis," and something that sounded like "ignius," or maybe "ignuus."

__

Oh…FUCK! Not another one of those bitches!

"Yeah…'fraid so, sugar," the woman said, grinning cheerfully as she touched her cigarette to the tiny spark that danced over her fingertips. She took a deep drag from the cigarette before exhaling a thin stream of smoke that smelled like the sweet, spicy incense that Matron used to burn back in the old orphanage days.

Seifer's eyes narrowed, glinting dangerously. "Stay out of my fucking mind!"

"I didn't read your mind," the sorceress chuckled, "just your face." Eyes sparkling with mischief, the woman leaned closer to him and murmured, "Remind me to get you in a poker game sometime, Stone Face."

"What the fuck do you want, witch?" Seifer growled at the woman.

The redhead's good-humored go-to-hell smile snapped off as suddenly as if someone had flipped a switch. The thundercloud eyes crackled with lightning, causing even a hardened asshole like Seifer to blink uncertainly.

"First of all," she snapped, "the name's O'Hara, not witch. Siobhan O'Hara--got that?"

Seifer nodded. "O'Hara…yeah, got it."

Immediately, the sorceress's good humor returned. "And secondly," she continued, "I have a proposition for you."

She had, indeed. Siobhan had told him the most weird-ass story he'd ever heard. Something about soul-mates and a pattern. Fuck if he could make heads or tails of it. She'd also told him that his actions during the Sorceress War hadn't been completely unjustified. There were reasons--good ones--behind Ultimecia's attempt to destroy the world. The debacle that had followed was the unfortunate result of the sorceress's madness overtaking her before she could accomplish her goal--that, and a complete failure to understand the true nature of Time Compression.

"Are you trying to tell me that Ultimecia was actually one of the good guys?" Shit, Seifer had spent nearly six months serving as knight to the wacked-out bitch--it had been like being linked to chaos--he hadn't detected the slightest trace of good in her.

Siobhan nodded. "Originally, at any rate," she said. "In her time, sorceresses are very few in number. They've almost completely died out--been killed off, actually. When Ultimecia discovered the Junction Ellone device, she looked back over the past in an attempt to find out why. And guess what she found?"

Seifer shrugged. "You tell me."

"She found a group of six young people: an antisocial youth, a young woman with a whip, a short man with a tattoo, a girl in yellow with sea-green eyes--"

"A cowboy and a girl with a dog," Seifer finished for her. This was no news to him.

To his surprise, O'Hara shook her head. "No--a quiet girl with silver hair and an eyepatch--and you."

"Me?" The blonde man blinked in surprise. "Me and Fujin?" Seifer shook his head. No way. This was too fucking weird.

"Irvine and Rinoa were never supposed to meet the others," Siobhan informed him. "Ultimecia somehow managed to change the pattern--I'm not sure how--" the redhead shook her head. "I don't know how they managed to defeat her--they shouldn't have been able to."

Seifer downed the rest of his drink and immediately ordered another. He had a feeling he was going to need it. O'Hara lit another cigarette before continuing.

"The six young people she saw set a series of events in motion that would eventually lead to the extinction of our entire race--it's already begun, as a matter of fact."

"So…" Seifer inquired, at a loss, "how does Time Compression fit into the picture? Destroying the whole fucking world seems a little extreme to get rid of six dipshits."

"Yeah," Siobhan agreed, "but world destruction wasn't her intention." The sorceress's brow furrowed in thought for a moment. "Have you ever played a video game?"

The blonde knight blinked in surprise. "Yeah," he answered, "but what--"

"Ultimecia believed that TC would erase _her_ present by functioning as a sort of restart button. The events leading to her time would collapse, one into another, erasing themselves as they went, until nothing was left of that particular time line--follow me?"

Seifer didn't--quite--but he nodded mutely and waited for O'Hara to continue.

"Unfortunately, it didn't work as she expected--but long before she discovered what TC actually entailed, she lost it--was driven mad by her own powers." The redhead shrugged. "It happens to a lot of us. It's hard to contain that kind of power in the limited confines of the human body--some of us can handle it--and taking a knight helps some--but even that usually only defers the inevitable for a short time. In the end," she said bitterly, "we all end up paying the price."

O'Hara took a sip of absinthe before continuing. "She took you as her knight, knowing that Fujin would leave Garden to follow you. Then she used the Junction Ellone device to travel back into the past, made a few nudges here and there, and threw Irvine and Rinoa into the mix--two people who were completely unsuited for the life of a warrior. By changing the line-up, she believed that she could change the outcome of the battle." Siobhan shook her head. "It should have worked, but, for some reason, it didn't."

"So…" Seifer finished his drink; O'Hara's story definitely went down better with a whisky chaser. "What's your proposition? How can you change any of this?"

"By destroying Odine's little toy--and the man who created it."

Seifer nearly choked on his whisky. "How the fuck will _that_ help?"

O'Hara looked at him as if he were the densest person she'd ever seen. "No Odine, no device. No device, Ultimecia won't be able to go back into the past. This should set off another chain of events--stretching both backwards and forwards in time--"

"The restart button," Seifer said, finally catching on. He took a long look at the sorceress. She was talking about murder as casually as she would discuss the latest best-seller she'd read. Funny. She didn't look like the type.

"Have you ever killed anyone? It's not a pretty thing, you know." Before Seifer got involved any further, he wanted to know if O'Hara was really prepared for what she was proposing--or if she was another Rinoa, dreaming dreams of glory without really understanding that dreams of that nature usually carried a heavy price.

Siobhan's smile faded and, for a moment, the playful façade fell away, revealing a pained, haunted expression in the normally laughing grey eyes. "Yes," she said quietly, "I've killed before--and you're right, it's not a pretty thing. I can remember the face of each man I've killed--and I see them every night when I go to sleep." Tortured grey eyes locked onto his as the sorceress continued speaking. "I don't enjoy killing," she said, "but--Odine--I think I _would_ enjoy snapping his neck." Siobhan's lips stretched into a hungry, lupine grin. "I think I'd enjoy that very much."

Sorceress and Knight sat in silence for a few moments. Siobhan, smoking one of her apparently unlimited supply of spiced cigarettes; Seifer, contemplating the bottom of his empty glass, trying to reach a decision.

"So…" Siobhan said finally, taking another sip of absinthe, "are you interested, or not?"

__

Was he interested? Seifer considered the sorceress's story. O'Hara was either cracked, or she was the world's biggest--albeit most original--liar. And yet…there was a weird sort of logic to her tale. During his time with Ultimecia, Seifer had often felt that something had gone sadly out of whack--that he wasn't supposed to be on the side he'd "chosen." He wasn't supposed to be fighting his friends.

"OK, O'Hara," he said at last, "You've got yourself a knight."

The sorceress laughed. "Oh no I don't," she said.

Seifer turned a puzzled countenance to Siobhan; the redhead smiled and pointed off to the side. "_She_ does."

Turning slightly to look in the direction that Siobhan was pointing, Seifer's eyes widened in surprise as a slim woman with silver hair and an eye patch approached him.

"Fujin?" he exclaimed, "_You're_ a sorceress?"

A small smile played about his old friend's lips as she answered, "AFFIRMATIVE."

****

********************

So Seifer had thrown his lot in with Siobhan and her wild-ass scheme to restore the time continuum. Hell, it wasn't like he had a lot of career opportunities at this point. Together with a few other members of the Sisterhood, they had rescued Rinoa from the D-district prison. Seifer had argued against that--Rinoa had always been a ditz, and rescuing her just wasn't worth the risk, in his opinion. Siobhan and Fujin had been adamant, however. Rinoa was a sister sorceress--therefore, rescued she would be. Much to Seifer's surprise, Rinoa wasn't quite the pain in the ass that he remembered. Maybe gratitude for her rescue was responsible for the change, or maybe even dipshits like her eventually matured.

Princess Heartlilly notwithstanding, Seifer had never regretted his decision to join O'Hara's merry band. In addition to serving as Fujin's knight, he'd become Siobhan's military advisor. And Siobhan was a damn good leader in his opinion. Unlike those idiots at Garden, she wanted and expected Seifer to disregard previous orders, if necessary, and to adapt to circumstances when and if they changed. She wanted a general who could think and act quickly in a crisis, and who didn't have to request for new instructions every time something unexpected happened. She trusted his judgement…she trusted _him._ For that alone, he'd be willing to follow her through hell barefooted.

And now, she lay unconscious on a fucking sofa in her adoptive father's house, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. That _really_ pissed him off. More than anything else, Seifer hated feeling helpless. Fujin seemed to understand some of what the blonde knight was feeling--hell, of course she did, he'd been her knight for nearly two years now. And the bond between them was…intense.

The silver haired sorceress brushed her lips against his hair. "She'll be all right, " she said quietly.

A trace of Seifer's habitual smirk played about his lips. "She'd better," he said, "or I'll kick her ass."

As if in response to the blonde knight's threat, Siobhan's eyelids fluttered open.

"Irvine?" she murmured, her grey gaze flitting restlessly around the study.

"Nah, Red. It's just me and Fujin."

Siobhan shook her head, trying to clear away the cobwebs that still fuzzed her brain, and struggled to sit up. "Shit," she swore softly, "I hate that bitch."

The redhead's comment surprised laughter from Fujin and her knight. Siobhan scowled up at her two friends, then broke into a slight smile as she realized how her words must have sounded.

"I meant Tisiphone," she explained, "Not you, Fujin."

The other sorceress waved a hand dismissively at her friend, "I know."

Siobhan's face turned suddenly grave as her eyes met Seifer's. "Irvine," she said suddenly, "He's on his way--now. We've got to get away before he gets here! She'll kill him--she _showed_ me!"

****

********************

Zell stared at the squad he was supposed to lead into the Fox's lair.

__

Shit. They look so…young. 

The martial artist shook his head. Hell, it wasn't like he was that much older, himself. And he'd only been about these kids' age when he and his friends had taken out Ultimecia. But still…

"Lieutenant Dincht? Is anything wrong, sir?"

Zell turned to face Nichols, one of the re-con team who had been observing the Sisterhood's safe house for the past two weeks.

"No. Nothing's wrong," Zell answered, "Just thinking." Regarding his squad with an uncharacteristically serious expression, he asked, "Any of them have experience fighting sorceresses? Any field experience at all?"

Nichols shook his head. "I don't think so, sir--no sorceress experience, anyway. They're all recent graduates, so they've gone up against regular troops and lower level monsters." Nichols's expression revealed that he was no happier about the SeeDs' lack of experience than Zell was.

The martial artist had to forcibly restrain himself from pounding his fist against the floor. _What the hell were you thinking, Squall? How the fuck am I supposed to carry out this mission with a bunch of damn rookies?_ Heaving a bone-weary sigh, Zell got what information he could from Nichols.

"So…what can you tell me? How many sorceresses're in there?"

"Hard to tell--they come and go…but our best guess is around thirty."

__

Ten rookies against thirty sorceresses…great. Zell shook his head. This was going to be a slaughter. Forget the fist, he was ready to pound his _head_ against the floor. 

"Security? Defenses?"

Nichols shook his head. "Again--it's hard to tell. According to our plant, there's usually two sentries just inside the door and nothing else--but all of 'em have seen action. Except for the kids, of course."

"Kids?" This was news to Zell. Squall had mentioned nothing about kids being present when he gave Zell his orders to leave no survivors in the safe house. The commander must not have known. "How many?"

The re-con specialist gave him a helpless look. "We're not sure…we've seen five or six--but there could be more…"

Shit. The more Zell learned about this mission, the less he liked it. After approaching his squad and sorting out their various specialties, he liked it even less. All ten had GFs, but only three were specialists: one of those had defensive and healing magics junctioned, the second, destructive, and the third, forbidden. All three had only mid-level spells. Two snipers, ranks 15 and 17; three martial artists, ranked 7, 10, and 12. One sai specialist, rank 10; one bo fighter, rank 8. Only the three summoners had full compatibility. Yep. It was going to be a slaughter, all right.

__

Squall, if I get out of here alive, I'm gonna kick your round, firm, and fully packed ass from Garden to Balamb and back again. Even if he had to face a firing squad later, it would be worth it.

Zell briefed his squad on the situation as Nichols had described it to him. He also tried to explain exactly what they could expect when battling a sorceress. As he went over the best strategies to use, he noticed the bored and long-suffering expressions on the rookies' faces.

__

Hyne…they're as cocky as we were…

"I know you all think you know what to expect," Zell said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "and I'm _real_ sorry if I'm boring ya--but _none_ of you have the slightest fucking idea what it's like to battle a sorceress. A little experience with mid-level monsters and regular troops means precisely dick--so listen up, 'cos I'm only gonna go over this once."

Much to the martial artist's satisfaction, he now had the squad's undivided attention. Once again, Zell explained the tactics that each fighter would use. Then, because they had irritated him, he drilled them over the briefing for an additional fifteen minutes. Finally, he dismissed them, instructing them to be ready to move out in one hour.

Without appearing to do so, Zell unobtrusively watched his squad as they broke ranks and went off to relax for a moment, or to make final equipment checks and prepare for the upcoming battle. He heard various fighters exulting about "finally getting to kick some sorceress ass," accompanied by high-fives and cries of "Hell yeah!" or "Damn straight!" Zell shook his head in disgust.

__

Hyne on a hobby-horse…they don't have a clue what they're up against…not a fucking clue…

****

********************

Irvine stubbed out his fourth cigarette in the ashtray of his rental car. He'd been parked about a half block from Jared's house and had spent the last twenty minutes arguing with himself and the GFs as to whether or not to get out of the car and knock on the door. The cowboy suspected that his earlier anger wouldn't last long once he was face-to-face with Siobhan, and he wasn't sure he was ready to forgive her. He wasn't even sure that he _wanted_ to forgive her.

__

WHO DO YOU THINK YOU'RE KIDDING? Diablos asked, _YOU'VE ALREADY FORGIVEN HER._

NOT ONLY THAT, Cerberus 2 chuckled, _BUT **YOU'LL** PROBABLY END UP APOLOGIZING TO **HER**_.

__

You're probably right, Irvine thought, a wry half-smile playing across his lips. How did women do that? How did they always manage to make men feel guilty when _they_ were in the wrong?

__

THEY KNOW THAT YOU MEN ARE ALWAYS THINKING WITH YOUR SECOND HEAD, Cerberus 3 growled, _THAT'S HOW. IT GIVES THEM A HUGE ADVANTAGE OVER YOU._

SO, Cerberus 1 asked irritably, _ARE YOU GOING TO SIT HERE ALL DAY, OR ARE YOU GOING TO KNOCK ON THE DOOR?_

Irvine was spared any further debate when Jared's front door opened. Finn appeared first, going ahead of the others to open the doors of Jared's sedan. The next two people who emerged onto the porch caused Irvine to sit up ramrod straight in his seat, peering forward intently.

__

Fujin and Raijin? If they're here, then--

Sure enough, there he was. Seifer fucking Almasy. The blonde ex-knight turned, facing back through the doorway he'd just come through, and extended an arm. A slender hand grasped the proffered arm, and a black-draped figure emerged onto the porch, leaning heavily on Almasy.

__

Find Seifer and you'll probably find ShadowFox…

Next, a grey wolf slipped through the door and padded sedately next to the figure in black as the trio made their way to the car.

__

Oh…shit…

****

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A/N: Siobhan sure does seem to have a thing for picking guys up in bars, doesn't she?

Ack! This was another chapter that should have been written under the influence of novacain. Especially the section from Zell's POV. Seifer speaks to me, as does Squall--well actually, _he_ usually swears at me (we have issues, he and I), and, of course, Irvine never shuts up. But Zell…I had a lot of trouble getting inside his head. [mutters] Stubborn little tattooed freak…

Anyway…the background has been laid out, and all the players are moving into position. The story has moved rather slowly so far, but starting with the next chapter, things should get a little more…interesting. There _will_ be ass-kicking, and poor Irvine will get yet _another_ unpleasant surprise. 

YuriNigasa: Heh…men and muses are indeed clueless and uncooperative--and when men _are_ your muses? Oy! [smacks forehead] All bets are off! I did have qualms about making Irvine take so long to piece everything together--but remember, he didn't have all the info given to the reader, and he had no real reason to suspect Siobhan…but I probably did make him too dense…[sigh]

A Voice in the Wind: Well…your worries are over. Seifer is finally revealed to be one of the good guys…unless…Siobhan really _has _been lying to everyone and is, in actuality, just another evil sorceress. [evil grin] heh heh…

Ashi: Thanks for reviewing. I'm glad you like my characterization of Irvine. Like I said, he speaks to me…incessantly. It's getting him to shut up that's the problem. ^_^

Many thankies to the few of you who are reviewing. If there's anyone out there reading this who isn't reviewing--please leave a comment or two…or else…

Irvine: Or else what?

Q: [thinks for a moment]

Seifer: Don't strain anything, toots. [smirks]

Q: [grabs a passing moogle and holds a loaded wand to its head] Or else I'll kill this innocent little moogle!

Moogle: KUPO! [translation: Oh, SHIT!]

Irvine: [rolls his eyes] I don't think that's going to convince anyone.

Seifer: Yeah…anyone who'd read your fics wouldn't care about a cute, fluffy, little creature anyway.

Q: Hmmm…you're probably right. [releases moogle]. I know! If you don't review, I'll turn this whole damn story into a…[ominous organ chord] a SQUINOA! 

SFX: [thunder and lightning]

Seifer: [GASP!] NOOOOOOO! Not THAT! [faints]

Irvine: [look of horror] She means it, folks…better review if you know what's good for you! 

__


End file.
